Jeanie's Letters Home
by hippiechick2112
Summary: Through letters and notes to the 4077th and elsewhere, Captain Jeanette Morrison reveals to everybody her thoughts, feelings, fears, hopes and dreams and everything else happening around her. Story two of three of "This Forsaken War".
1. Post Holiday Blues

**Jeanie's Letters Home**

**Note and Disclaimer: I don't own the character of M*A*S*H, but the character of Captain Jeanie Morrison – the main character of these stories – belongs to me, so if you want to use her, please message me with permission first. This is the second story of her tour in Korea, but this time, it's her experiences and feelings through letters home and to the 4077th. Enjoy!**

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_December 29, 1951  
The 4077th, Korea to the 43rd, San Francisco_

_Dear, dear, dear Dean,_

_Everything has been going well here at the 4077th, as usual, if you must know about the unit you used to guard (and are coming back to). The cold snap has already come upon us (although it has been warm beforehand) and we do feel lucky indeed. I can't complain either. It was pretty weather for a while (we've had sunny days and temperatures in the fifties, according to the outdoor thermometer), but all things that are good and green must come to an end. By Christmas Day, the temperatures moved to the teens and it's been that way ever since._

_It is nerve-wrecking, this cold weather. The poor wounded are pouring in (more of them have hypothermia and frostbite than ever before), via the new Christmas/New Years' offensives, all in thanks to our side, who can't take the word "truce" to heart. Dammit, how I hate it, especially those who command the men. Officers are spared usually, which makes it worse. I want to kill them, but remembered that I am one of them, cursing every time I remember I am a Captain._

_There has been little to think about or even do here in the little off-duty hours that are offered to me, your faithful sister, who writes to you often, even though you know that I hate to write, especially long letters, which I'm sure this is going to be. I can't grumble, however sad this situation is…the "police action" they call it where you are. War…the "police action"…has changed everything I know about life. The beautiful countryside that we both admired is still being blown to bits with bombs and there isn't a damned thing we can do about it but do the duties we were bound to obey._

_Enough of this already! Let's have a change of topic here…_

_So, I found out that you were stationed back in San Francisco by the Head Nurse here (you will remember Major Margaret Houlihan), who found out about my letters being sent back because I had the wrong address. She got on the ball for me (and this is the person who used to yell at me all the time and called me a "bumbling idiot"!) and phoned Headquarters in Seoul, demanding to know your whereabouts, and _viola_! Now I know where you are, stateside in California again, you lucky devil! You were stationed there again, for some reason, I hear. Don't tell me about it!_

_It must be exciting to ride down those cable cars and seeing all those sights that we both promised we'd see after this fighting is finished. God, you remember when we were first told that we'd be sent overseas to Korea? One of our stops after Bloomington was San Francisco, although I had no chance to see its unique beauty and feel the cool breezes as you probably are doing right now. I had to leave as you finished training for Korea. And then, I was just shipped onto the next plane for Hawaii, Guam, Japan and then Korea (quickly, because, of course, I AM the security risk!). I stayed here, you came here and then you were ordered back Stateside before your next tour of Korea._

_Yes, I know about that too, thanks to Major Houlihan…again. Your combat unit, the 43rd, is scheduled to come here in February, as you know already. Like _that's_ a secret! And you're coming back to the 4077th, thank God!_

_Speaking of things not being secrets anymore…I have heard that there has been tragic news at "home". You have most likely heard this as well, but Clarence, our lovely stepfather, has died of a" heart attack". Mom wrote to me earlier this week (she even phoned here awfully frantically yesterday, looking for me, so Radar had to reassure her that I'd call her as soon as I was out of the O.R.) saying that he died while, and I quote from the phone conversation minutes after my fifty hours in meatball surgery: "He was doing the things in life he appreciated and was caught, early this morn, smiling in his bed."_

_Geez, haha, just imagine that, Dean! He was in bed with another woman when he died! And Mom was covering it up by saying that he was doing what he did best (to her, supporting the family or being faithful to her, but she probably meant that he was praying somewhere and being devout). We all know what he did though._

_I can't gloat about this completely. I grieve with Mom about this because, after all, he _was_ the love of her life (I can't say that I love him either, so don't make a face at me!). I guess Daddy doesn't count, even though the two DID love each other very much before we were born. They spent some years together before Daddy started to drink more and the two divorced._

_Do you remember that, Dean? Remember that we had to take care of ourselves when we were small? It was so long ago!_

_Well, it does unnerve me still that Clarence is – was – still romping behind Mom's back and was constantly backstabbing her with arrests for rape (always out of jail, of course, because the Church says that he wouldn't hurt a soul). Mom STILL denies that her "sweet angel" would dare touch another woman while he was married and going to Church as he was brought up to do. Doesn't it just piss you off?_

_I can safely write this to you, but I am almost happy (I have to respect the dead, hence the "almost happy" bit there) that he is gone. He had done enough damage to many girls' lives, mine included, and you KNOW what I mean. The pain of that night at the hospital is enough to make me cry still and I have not gotten over it just yet, especially after my Shannon was born a few months ago. And she was the one who lived, not the little boy that I lost._

_I knew what had happened that night, when I was just barely eighteen (before we even ran off, me flopping at his house every once in a while), even though Mom was trying to hide the fact that I miscarried his child (she said that I was just having "women's troubles" and that I didn't hear the doctors quite right). I knew that Henry couldn't believe it either, and he was always watching me, hurt that he found out as soon as I crawled, in pain, to his front door at three in the morning._

_Mom _knew_ all about it and she _never_ bothered to do a thing about it but blame me for it. She said that I was the slut and she protected him –_

_Well, then…I'll write to Mom, of course, and bullshit about it. I can always say how grieved I am about his Clarence's death and touch her with my pretty good poetry (haha), which she even described, herself, as "beautiful, if not base and disgusting, like your father's." She says I am like him a lot, am I not? How gross it would be if it was true!_

_Yes, isn't Mom right in saying how much of an actress I can be like Daddy? She hits the target sometimes, but her arrow isn't always straight. And I can _tell_ she's still drinking again by the tone of the last phone call. Daddy's been better than her in recent years, of course, and he's still in the hospital (again!) and trying to get back into the Army (again!) so that he could do something in this war (Major Houlihan, again, because her father worked with ours and news comes to me freely for some off reason). The doctors there, who write to me now, how wonderful they are (note my sarcastic tone, Dean), say that he'll never recover, but I know that Daddy is stronger than this. I mean, this is how he's survived all of these years. Why can't he survive this? He came to Korea once and he can come again._

_You know, I can't dwell upon the past anymore. It hurts me too much._

_I can't deal with these past few months either. I'm stuck here still and my daughter Shannon, now a few months old, is with Trapper and his wife in Boston because he (and the Army, for some reason or another) believes he is her biological father (so says the official reason, but I know better). Trapper won't say a word to his wife (he writes to me sometimes, once saying that his wife is always pointing her fingers at him and screaming about infidelity). We all know, Dean, that it might be that Major Simmons person or Hawkeye._

_Trapper also wrote to me that he said to his wife that it was only a favor to someone in Korea, which is good enough for now…until she reads the fine print on the paperwork closely and see that Trapper is one of many men closely associated with me, friend, lover or whatever. But Mrs. McIntyre has other thoughts in her head, and they are about his infidelities with the other nurses in Korea. And that is all she thinks about because that was all Trapper did before he married: chase women._

_And who am I to say anything about it? I am just as equally guilty, if not worse, than Trapper is. I'm not married and did not stray from Hawkeye, although I consider being raped cheating on him. Hell, I could have yelled for help (and possibly gotten killed by Major Simmons all three times, I must say) and said something when Simmons was on me. Henry could have helped me…Henry…_

_Oh, God, and Henry…Henry's gone. I know you heard about it, Dean. He's dead. You know it, I know it. Oh, my God, that day was horrible. Radar came in that day in the O.R. with that shocking note only those few months ago, only shortly after he left us via chopper. He said that Henry's plane was shot down in the Sea of Japan, no survivors. And I remember that after that O.R. session, you came, we grieved harshly and, oh, God…Dean, he's GONE and DEAD, GONE GONE GONE DEAD DEAD DEAD from us!_

_I wrote, a week after the announcement, to Lorraine to express my sorrow and to share in my sadness with her because of how close we all were to him, his older children in the deepest grief because they had lost their father. She immediately sent me one back, saying how much she missed and loved him, despite everything with Leslie Dish, and sent me that poem, the same I showed you…_

_Oh, God, Dean, he never saw his son, Andrew, who was born after he left for Korea. Dean, _he never saw his damned son!_ The war killed him! The war has robbed his family, and especially that small child of a father and Lorraine of a husband. Oh, God, no…_

_I know, Dean, I know that promised you that my letters to you won't be sealed with my constant tears because of how depressed I have become in staying in Korea, but this letter will be. The news of Henry's death has unglued me, made this cold place seem a bit more distant, bitter even. I know that everyone took it hard, Radar especially, since he was like a son to Henry, children all of us can be. And we…we are without him, oh, God!_

_There will always be a place in my heart for Henry. His death has broken my heart in more pieces than I can count, worse than anything else that has happened here already. And I'm sure you're grieving as well…_

_Our new Commanding Officer, as you know, is Colonel Sherman Potter. He realizes this much about Henry (THANK God!) and has tried to raise the camp's morale and it has been working, I guess, because he's such a sweet person and people are responding to it. He's been desperate to save morale here (and some face) and so far, he's been one of the guys, so it's been good, in some way. I love him._

_The Swampmen has been at their usual best, a new twist with a new C.O. Hawkeye has been depressed because Trapper left, but he has been paying more attention to me lately: eventful days behind us and stressful ones ahead. Frank is bummed out because his command was taken away from him (Major Houlihan has also cooled down her once loving relationship with him a LOT) and has been ornery about it all, more so than usual. Our new surgeon, B.J. Hunnicutt, is just as hilarious as Hawkeye (perfectly drunk when he came back from the airport with Radar and Hawkeye, but just as good as anyone else here, save Frank Burns) and has even tried to make things better now that the people here, who have made life to much more interesting, are gone for good._

_Oh, hell, it doesn't matter to me about the changes because I am ordered out of here and am bugging out by the end of the week for a while. Yes, I am being transferred temporarily and it's not by Colonel Potter's orders (he wouldn't do this to me!) but that of good old Headquarters in Seoul: The Old Soldiers Die Laughing Academy, The Funny Farm, The Little White Rooms, to study the wounded men here and their reactions to the war. I have to make weekly reports and everything, how military of me again!_

_It reminds me of the time I spent in West Germany, except there was less paperwork there (and I had others, under my command, do that for me!). Oh, Jesus, I can't imagine myself filling out these weekly reports. How annoying is this Army going to be to us, to me especially? Damn them!_

_At least I'll know somebody there: Sidney Freedman. He's one of those "mind-spinners" that we used to make fun of when we were kids, remember? He's a good guy and he wants to help people, truly he does, and don't give me that eyebrow (I know that face is there, even if I'm not there)! He used to come here to the 4077th for the poker games and a few times he's run into "trouble" in the form of B.J. Hunnicutt's pranks on the still-militant and nutty Frank Burns, who is having some "trouble" (yes, let's call it that too) with Major Hot Lips Houlihan (or, once, he ran into some with Colonel Flagg, my former Commanding Officer, who comes here often enough to check on me mostly)._

_Only yesterday, (remember, the weather has been cold), when Frank Burns was sleeping in the Swamp did B.J. tell Sidney to yell "Air Raid!" Now, Sidney is staying here with us until I leave with him and, in the meantime, has been trying to find out who the prankster of the camp is, seeing as how some strange happenings have been going about the camp again._

_Frank, upon hearing those two dreaded words, jumped right out of his cot and went diving into the foxhole he ordered the enlisted men to dig. Now, might I add that the foxhole was full of WATER?_

_It was hilarious! Oh, I'm going to miss these silly goings-on when I transfer. Maybe I can request a transfer Stateside and we can have some fun of our own, a faint hope that it'll be? Even if I could, I know that there are many military brats over there and playing jokes on them would be fun as hell!_

_Oh, Dean, dammit, I'd give anything in this world to go back to what it used to be: Bloomington, Henry and Lorraine and the gang, endless peace and fields farther than what we can see. But I also understand that the past is forever locked in our heart's memories and there it will stay. Nothing can ever be the same ever again. The memories, as I've been advised to do for the years we've been in Mom's household, have to remain as stoic as our emotions. We should never reach for them and never pine for what they stood for us._

_Dean, do I ever want it to relive every moment we've had together with everybody we've loved, every time we've given everyone a hard time only to laugh later…anything that can paint a smile on my older face. I'm not yet thirty years old and have been feeling older and older as time goes on and with every death. No matter if it was personal or if it was a kid, I age. I see it everywhere in this unit, too, and it kills me more._

_I miss you more than anything in this cruel world, Dean. You are all that I have now really and when I see you back in Korea. If only, if only, I can see your face again. I hold you dear in my heart forever, a sister's key thrown away and never forgotten –_

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	2. A False Grief

_December 31, 1951 – New Year's Eve  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington_

_Dearest Mother,_

_It is with regret that I write to you today, finally, and grief with you upon the death of Clarence, my dearest stepfather and the only father I really only had._

_I cannot say the words to describe the pain I have felt when I heard of the news during our phone call (I apologize for the briefness of it, because my work was not yet done). I share in the same sorrow that you feel._

_Oh, I am also sorry about being so far away and not taking you into my arms and comforting you. I hope to see your face again and mourn with you a fine man who did his duties well. I know, deep in my heart, that he was a loving, caring man who took care of whatever family was put in front of him and he did the job as well as he could. He gave it his best try and I wish I could have given him more than his fair due of respect._

_God will take care to punish me for all that I did to him and may I feel the guilt. He will help you in these times of troubles and will acknowledge those faithful to His Being._

_I love you with all of my heart and wish to my whole being that I can be there with you when his casket has finally been lowered to the ground. That day, the day you will remind me of, will serve me good for the days to come and surely will give me remorse. I will be reminded of how I was here when I was needed the most and how I was selfish never to find a way out of this._

_May God protect you and keep you in His arms this night. His ways are righteous. He will guard and protest you in your times of troubles. I will pray for you and for Clarence, as he was a good man and did his life how in a Godly way._

_Your faithful daughter, Jeanette Karen Morrison_


	3. Close to the Front Lines Again

_January 7, 1952  
The Laughing Academy, Korea to the 43rd, San Francisco_

_Dear Dean,_

_I can't believe that already, a week has passed since I've been in this stupid rat hole I have already dubbed "The Laughing Academy". This place is much worse than the M*A*S*H unit I was stuck in for over a year and have left behind with some regret. God, it's looking like paradise to me right now! I already miss the food, the hours and the way the doctors fool around and pick on Frank Burns. Here, it's horrible!_

_It's not that the conditions are worse here than at the camp or that there are worse people here. I have a roof over my head, decent food and even a REAL bed to sleep in (not a cot, I mean, and it's a SOFT bed!). However convenient the Army has become at times, I can say that, being closer to the Front (but more to the east) scares me worse than being three miles away from the fighting and the wounded. Indeed, we are not even a damned MILE away!_

_The soldiers here are much more scared here than being at the Front itself and my mind crawls and then scatters with them in every air raid, every bomb and grenade that flies our way, all along with them. Most of them come straight from the Front, scattered and screaming! Oh, God, and Dean, it's gets worse from there! Their minds are just as horribly scarred and now, they have to see their worst nightmares come true, all in thanks to the Army, who put them close to the fighting and such in an experiment to see what would happen to them next._

_And, and, sometimes, I (along with them) see the brown and red uniforms of the enemy in the distance, all of us sane enough to taking turns with the binoculars. Sidney doesn't join in these adventures, but I'm sure that he's pretty frightened too, by the way he hides in the most secure place he could ever find sometimes: under his own bed in his quarters._

_Oh. good Lord, I'm already writing of my miseries first! I'm sorry, Dean, but I am more scared than ever before, even more so than at the 4077th. I can hardly put this pen to the paper because my hands are shaking so hard and you can see that my handwriting is worse than ever before. Oh, I've been better at writing since the war began, but now, I'm back to my old habits with atrocious conditions (nightmares compared to Mom and Clarence!) to boot. We all acknowledge that I am not the greatest writer and my handwriting isn't exactly calligraphy either, so laugh it out!_

_This first report is done and already sent, by the way. I typed it out quickly, after the first day on duty, and complained about the conditions that these soldiers have to face once more. Most of all, I did mention (and emphasized!) the location of this place and ask that we be moved because the location has affected the patients here. Sidney mentioned that it might come about (but even HE is skeptical about it!) since the U.S. Army has figured out that a soldier's nerves are now worse than before when nearer to the Front and that they need rest and relaxation elsewhere and not near enemy fire._

_Can you imagine that, Dean? The Army put two and two together! I thought I'd never see the day when the U.S. Army did this! Wow! Can you believe it?_

_My sarcastic attitude can be well noted, Dean. Log it into the book…or your mind, whichever you have with you first. Remember that we had to bring the book of sarcastic remarks and jokes that we made in our lives, which I just remembered. I know you had it last because I handed it back to you before you left Korea again. You missed this (I think you were out patrolling with the men), but it was just Hawkeye grabbed it and tried to read it over the P.A. system (laughing so hard that he could not do the deed himself, so B.J. tried and failed, as well). Do you still have it? If you do, bring it back with you to Korea!_

_Dean, well…otherwise, I can't really describe to you the conditions in which these people have to face on a day-to-day basis. I can say what I do here and what I sometimes see and experience._

_My tasks here are simple: observe, take note, talk and comfort, read and write letters and scribble reports to H.Q. Seoul. I try to socialize as much as possible, as you are the one who always says that I never got along with anybody and played well with others. Well, socializing, as you have all suggested, has helped me a lot (even Hawkeye has told me I should!). Most men here have trusted me. The long-term patients, or those who might never come out of it, are the ones that give me a hard time. I watch them at night a lot, a duty that I've never loved. Most are asleep with their eyes opened to the terror that they had seen previously while others are asleep and screaming in their dreams, dreams they think are reality._

_I've already had a few soldiers that prowl the night, searching for Communist Reds still…and there are a lot nearby, Dean. I hear the bombings everyday; I see the men cringe with fright when a stray bullet comes our way; I can almost _smell_ their fear, their experiences in the fields of Korea in my mind sometimes. I cannot stand this anymore and will be so happy that I am to be out of here in late February and head back to the 4077th. I have two days there and depending on everything, I can have R&R in Tokyo!_

_Well, so says Colonel Potter, who said I would probably deserve it._

_I know that you'll be in Tokyo at the time, so should we meet at the corner we already agreed to see each other at? We can have a bite to eat and talk like old times…just like old times. It is not as if they'll come back…_

_Today, though, has been a trial and a half and, when I don't work, I think out a lot of things, especially this new assignment. Strange, everything given to me always was clear to me except for this new "mission" from the Army. Why did they choose me out of everyone in these outfits? I have had no experiences with mentally ill people. We twins were part of that crowd, I know, way back when, after Lorraine took us in and Daddy moved into town. Ok, so we sort of know the feeling, but when the men have their cheese off of their cracker because of the war (but not family, of course), then I have no idea what can be bothering them. I only watch them as they hear another bullet go past them or another grenade explosion._

_My next question is: why we're so close to the Front Lines eastward? Maybe it's because the institution is closer and the men can find their minds here? I don't think so. The feeble are finding it harder to cope here than, let's say, south of here where there isn't much fighting. Like, why can't they go to Pusan and recuperate there?_

_I don't know, Dean. I have no idea what the Army is doing here other than scrabbling our minds and bodies further. And that, might I add, is THE understatement this year._

_There hasn't been much more detail to add here, Dean, so I'll close for now. Complain all you want about this being a shorter letter than the other one. Nevertheless, will I say how you never write except for once a month, sometimes twice, when you feel like it. Are those your orders or you just as lazy as I am when writing?_

_With an eager spirit and being always on the ball –_

_Your sister, Jeanie_


	4. To Hawkeye, With Love

_January 8, 1952  
The Laughing Academy to the 4077th, Korea_

_Hawkeye, my Love…_

_You've always told me to scribble a note or two here and there when I am around and have the chance, so here I am doing so, only a week after I last saw you and the gang at the 4077th. Quiet and reserved, never really saying as much as a word unless provoked and angry…yup, that's me all right. I miss you and my daughter tonight and this time of the day – night, when all are pretty noisy – makes it worse than ever before. Dammit, I miss already those nights we had in the Swamp, drinking and forgetting about a war we work in. Here, I cannot forget anything, not even the daughter who was born in such conditions._

_Tonight, the rooms are quiet and the Front Lines are as loud as ever. Oh, Love, you think being three miles away the Front is bad, think about it when you're not even a mile away. It's very, very, VERY frightening. I feel my life ebbing from me every time I walk around here, observing everything and wishing that I could be killed or be spared, sent back to the 4077th, where it's safe and sound…compared to this place, it is!_

_The Swamp with its dirty socks, roaches, rats, fleas and magazines even seems safer than this! If something was bothering me in there, I would be able to throw something at it and it'll be dead. Here, I think not!_

_The men here…they're in worse shape than I am, I can assure you, if you must know. You know, my mother always described me as being eager to see new places and I am always giggling with glee when I experience or see something new and novel, even when I arrived at the 4077th (well, somewhat, as I've told you from the beginning). Let me say this now: if I thought that being at the 4077th was going to crack me, then being here has changed that notion._

_I don't ever want to think about anyone being here. I can't bear to be near the Lines and waiting for the "enemy" to come running here. The spinsters (my brother and I call the patients that when we were kids, and indeed, does it illustrate my point of how their lives are out of control) are indescribable and unpredictable most of the time. My reports are already out in the mail (out constantly too) and begging, separately, for the institution to be moved back south, where it should belong. According to the reports I've made of several cases, I add a more vivid scene of torment and torture: names, faces and human beings._

_The answer, so far, has been negative, stating that the "experiments" are still on._

_It is hell here and I shake…I am scared, Love. I want you here with me, but I cannot torture you anymore than you already are._

_Dammit, no, no, no, there goes another explosion. I have to stop now, please let this cease to exist…I have hide someplace safe for now, Hawkeye, Love, I'll be all right…_

~00~

_It's done and over with. It's about an hour after I wrote that last sentence, Love, and I am all right and not hurt. The shots are still heard (it's a daily thing, trust me) and I am always on the alert. I can't step a foot outside with an M.P. and I thought that I had no use for them after Frank Burns let them loose on us before Colonel Potter came to Korea! I still have no gun and refuse to partake in any activity that promotes it. If the Chinese want to kill me as is, then they might as well because I am unarmed._

_Well, I wouldn't want the news to be twisted by the U.S. Army, anyhow. Can you imagine the news headlines? "Gorilla Reds Invade Institution!" Good Lord, I hate propaganda._

_By the way, Sidney Freedman is as freaked out about this as I am (if he isn't under his own bed hiding from fright in his free hours). He was in Taejon when he was ordered here and to head this outfit, if you want to call it that. Men are here to recover after losing whatever marbles they had when they gallantly (if you want to say that) marched from the mainland to here._

_Then, the Army refuses to take responsibility for all that's happened to them and stupidly sets up some institution near the lines…?_

_Are they to be heading out, back to the Lines, if the Army thinks that they're "recovered"? I can't bear to ponder upon what atrocities they can take place from here to there and then –_

_I'm stopping it right here._

_Onward to greener pastures: well, this isn't exactly pretty, but my stepfather is dead. Sure, send over your condolences, but I'm going to be saying the truth here: I'm almost glad he's gone, as you probably know right now. My mother writes (and this was just a few weeks ago) that he died "he was doing the things in life he appreciated and was caught, early this morn, smiling in his bed." I laugh about this (translation: he died with another woman in his bed) and then feel guilt afterward because it's rude as hell to be amused about others' misfortunes. This time (after all the guilt trips), though, I bask in the sunshine: his timely, and wonderful, death. It was the end of something much more serious and it has given more freedom to move. For me, it is an end to an era of terror._

_My mother, on the other hand, might not be able to handle herself after this. She never had the stability to hold herself together (I wonder why, considering who her husbands were) and even after her divorce from Daddy, she was a little…nuts? Oh, I can't say that everything is going to be the same again for her. I expect her to be begging God on her knees for forgiveness and putting on a nice show by hanging herself because of her misery. And I'm not kidding here either._

_Oh, Love, I know Mom well enough to do it, as I've heard her many times say she would do it. When I was four, she tried to hang herself before Daddy found her struggling and cut her down from the ceiling, telling her how much of a coward she was, playing the suicidal fool. She's been crazy ever since and uses religion as her excuse for everything. Dammit, she drives me insane! And I can't do a thing to her. She's untouchable!_

_Because we all know that nothing can be done about it._

_I hope that everything back at paradise is just as I have left it. Klinger is still dressing in his dresses…Frank Burns is trying to dishonorably discharge you and B.J.…Radar is – well, his usual self…Margaret is still with Frank and being her usual pain in the ass self…and everyone else, who has been running on their usual pace, well, I hope they are well, too. I can't say that I miss the enchanted castle. However, I'd take anything to be there again instead of watching, and not being able to help, those here who need the aid._

_And I'd also give anything to be drinking with you and the gang at the still, swishing an olive, sucking out the juice and imagining life without this war…_

_I give my best wishes to everyone and to you also, Love. I miss you so much! Kisses!_

_Yours forever…Jeanie Love_


	5. Treading Too Carefully

_January 9, 1952  
U.S. Army Disabled Institution, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dear Lorraine,_

_The letters will never stop coming, don't they? Like you've always told me, I've had the knack of telling everything to anyone I meet. It is not true. Yes, I haven't been able to write about experiencing that nightmare back in October, but the storm is mostly over and the waves of grief silently kiss to me their goodbyes. The pain and memories will never fade though. I still feel it as if it were yesterday, or even at the moment when I heard the news, standing in the O.R. with Hawkeye and Trapper, crying._

_I want to scream and cry my way out of the war, but duty always calls me to the strangest places. You should note the place that I've been stationed at instead of the 4077th. The U.S. Army seems to think that I can observe those under mental duress and assess it and give them a good, fair report. Well, to be honest with you, it's a challenging bunch of people (interesting, more like), I can say that. There are many who will make it home…home and recover there because their lives and minds have been washed. But for some, it's doubtful because well, now, they can't do it here though because the Lines are so near and the gunfire frightening by the day._

_I can't tell who is winning and at this point in time, I could care less. So much has been lost, other than these soldiers' minds, and I have had not the time and place to analyze this stupid war and determine what strategies we can use to kill more people. I've had too much of this. One of these days, if it isn't over, I'll be going over the bend and I can see if I'll end back up here as a patient!_

_Of course, this assignment is only until the end of February. I can stay at the 4077th for a couple of days and, depending on the wounded situation, I can have a week's leave in Tokyo, which is, by the way, our own little way of escaping the war, even if it is for a short period of time. Our new Commanding Officer is Colonel Potter. A good guy, in my opinion. He's the perfect person to replace Henry._

_Oh, God, Lorraine, I should not that written that, but I am only telling you the truth and that is what you want, right? You even said so yourself, so many times, over the span of many years. And I want the truth as well and cannot sugarcoat it anymore. I have to survive._

_I think I have survived the near-drowning, as you did. My homesickness is pretty bad still, but getting lost as time passes, especially when I think about Hawkeye (I told you about him, remember, and how much of a good person he is), is a bit of a relief. Oh, how is the old town of Bloomington? Is it the same as I've always saw it to be? How are the children? I know that they all are growing up nicely and I know that they'll be as fine as their father was._

_Was…how I hate the past tense, just like you do, Lorraine. It indicates an ending. It states to us that our memories are locked forever away and can be viewed by a cautious mind, if only we dare to. They can't come back to us._

_God, I still can't believe I wrote those words…me, who has been non-accepting of this world and what goes on in life. I rant, rave, moan, complain and mourn about life, but to talk about looking at memories carefully, even when the wounds are still open and salted…it's so strange._

_You did say to write what was on my mind and not to worry about offending you and, most certainly, Henry's memory, but I am treading carefully, as you've noted already. This is still hurting me more than ever before, even as I reread that poem you sent me all those months ago, telling me not to weep, for Henry did not die, he was still there somewhere…_

_To admit, however, that we have to move on – the best thing to do – feels as if there is something I still need to do. After this war, I know that there will be another, more important assignment for me to think about and I think that it'll be tougher than most (other than picking up my daughter hopefully). I don't know what it is yet, but I know there's one coming up. If I know about it, you'll be the first to know…I hope._

_I can't even begin to tell you the words and say how much I miss you and the children (and I want to see the little one when I see you all again, baby Andrew!). Just to say "I miss you" isn't enough, even with my tears coming down on this paper and smearing the ink of the pen. The war is destroying me slowly. I am going insane. Henry knew it too…knew that we all were. I am glad he had the joy to learn he was going home, although he could never be there again…except perhaps in spirit._

_These tears that fall, though…may they be for you and Henry, wherever he may be, if he is still with us or against us (whatever I mean). May they be for all those who perished, for all those who are stuck here and for us…this family who has already suffered so much, especially little Andrew, who will never know his father ever._

_I hope to see you soon. With much love, care, hugs and kisses to all –_

_Your "daughter" here in Korea, Jeanie_

_P.S. You remember the rules when I send you letters and Mom asks about them. I know this is a silly reminder, but I have to say it. I need you to reassure her that I am all right and not in sin's way, as she always claims me to be in (I still indulge in drinking at night, but I DO NOT smoke anything, as many believe I do). This letter will get to Bloomington about the same time that Mom's does, so when she asks you what was in there, please state that I am in Pusan in a safe place with no gunfire, alcohol, cigarettes, etc. in my way. This is a big favor and I'm asking you, as my mother, to please do it. I love you with all of my heart hope to see you soon, truly. ~J.K.~_


	6. Christian Duties

_January 9, 1952  
Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Mother,_

_I hope that this letter finds you well and safe. You can be rest assured that I am too. The temporary transfer here has changed me drastically. There isn't as much stress here as there was at the 4077th and you can wipe your forehead with relief about it. There isn't shooting here because of how south we are. There is little or no war here. The scenery that God has given this country has been displayed beautifully in this part, a small village called Pusan. The villagers are very nice and we all share in this bounty that we are blessed to have. The food here is plentiful and fresh daily. We always give the leftover food to the poor._

_It has been a most gracious life and it's been the best since I've left home. It is a cleaner way of life and the temptations of humankind – alcohol, cigarettes and even extra marital sex – are gone. The Christian way of life has been established here and it has cleared my blurry sight. There is a priest around here for everyday masses and he is there for marriages, deaths and our daily reconciliations and confessions. The men and women at the 4077th have been wiped from my mind, and, truth be told, I haven't thought of that still or even the Supply Room (even Captain Pierce has disappeared from my mind) since I have arrived here._

_My duties here are even light and I will regret leaving them behind in February as I go back to the 4077th and the grueling side of the war. I shouldn't complain though, as I've been given a gift in these cold months and it is to spread to word to the sick here and to convert, as you've told me to, those who do not believe. Already, a family has been baptized in the new faith and I feel proud to say that it was through my preaching that they decided this._

_I cannot claim that I have pride in this, but I feel as if I have accomplished something better in this war, acting upon my Christian duty, as you've taught me so long ago. And, although I have confessed that I have felt superior to others when I have had the family converted, I can still swell when the Spirit comes through me and tells me to spread the Good Word further._

_Mother, I miss you more than anything in this world. I can understand the pain you have felt in the death of Clarence, but I can tell you that he is smiling down from heaven and is watching you from above. He is always there for you too as you kneel in Church and pray for the souls of the dearly departed. May our Lord God bless you dearly with his wondrous ways. Please write to me in care of Pusan, South Korea._

_Your faithful daughter, Jeanette Karen Morrison_


	7. Let Us Be Safe!

_January 16, 1952  
The Not-So Laughing Academy to the 43rd, Korea_

_Dean, Dean, Dean…how quickly everything changes. You are back here in Korea, commanding your troops after all, before you can even land in Japan (you skipped Tokyo, as I understand it), and I am still here, scared shitless._

_Major Dean Morrison, back in Korea and fighting the Red Gorillas! How charming, Dean…NOT! This isn't some fantasy story that can be told to little children but a war story to remember by and by. This is reality and it's not a dream any longer. We are in the enemies' wake and we are their slaves._

_There have been no words to describe the offensive that the "enemy" has thrown at us. Dean, they are outside our door! I keep recalling, deep into my brain, why Henry Blake kept a gun in his tent under the pillow and I know why now…but I refuse to take a part in this though, no matter how desperate I am to rid myself of those who wish to kill those here (unlike you, Major Morrison!). Let me be killed, if it is necessary. I am a nurse, not a killer._

_The long road from my last letter earlier this month to now is amazing. The sense of impending death has always been upon me, but when my every move is recorded and analyzed, then I am beyond words. I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. I cannot move. Everything I do, everything I say, can trigger the Chinese and North Koreans to come here. The M.P.'s have to record everything here, like this letter, but I don't care, irritated that I am about being spied upon (so says the former spy). Let us be safe!_

_The serious cases here have been moved elsewhere to ensure the quiet of the building and of their sanity, of which is finally being recognized by said U.S. Army. Others have been placed in the basement like criminals to keep them silent, those soldiers who only wish for the quiet that the bottom floor offers them. I am still upstairs and only wish to be sent underground so that I can't see the battles outside my window. I am laying on the floor writing this letter as you are probably walking the fields and tracks of Korea searching for what we said was the "enemy" (or, enjoying the 4077th, if you are there). I see broken glass in front of my eyes as you see explosions on the eve of destruction._

_Dean, whoever is up there, I beg, no, _plead_ with you, them to have me killed quickly if I am to be captured by the Chinese instead of tortured, raped again or anything else. At least they will not be dead by my hands, the hands that have saved so many lives._

_Oh, Dean, I have never been so scared in my life. I never have my heart beating so fast and with such rage that it hurts my rib cage. I tremble to think about what is going on about me. I want to help nurse those wounded, I truly do, but my fear, I am pathetic to write, has gotten in the way of everything._

_I am a coward of a nurse._

_There, I said it and you know it to be true. I can't even keep myself in line in this damned Army. You know that we are here to prove something and to escape insanity, because we were the youngest of the children from both families. And now, look at us now: I am the frightened and vulnerable woman that Daddy says I am and Mom…well, she also said as much and always said that I was going to burn in hell for my many sins, sins of which I say are not so._

_Do you think so, Dean? Do you think about such things as you walk the terrain and hunt down those Reds? Or do you even have a guilty conscience as you smoke that final cigarette, drink that final glass of alcohol? Do you care to think…?_

_I can't ponder this anymore. Oh, Dean, please come soon. I can't bear this any longer. I can't be losing my mind already to paranoia…oh, Dean, please come here as you said you were or even let death take me away, if you wish to bury your younger sister, so that perhaps this family curse can be competed and you can go home happily. Let death take me by its precious wings…_

_Oh, Dean, you know my fears, your little sister's fears. Please comfort me, oh please, let everything be as it were before. Take me back to the 4077th, I don't care, just take me away…_


	8. Bugging Out

_January 21, 1952  
The Not-So Laughing Academy to the 4077th, Korea_

_Oh, Hawkeye, my Love…I know it's been a while since I've last written. I, too, am counting the days in which I am coming back to the 4077th. I can't say this enough, but I never knew how much safer it is there than it is here, like I've told you so many times now. Right now, it doesn't matter just as long as I am liberated from the mess._

_What have I gotten myself into? I can't stand it anymore. I need to be out…_

_Right now, as I write on the floor, there are bombs going off and most of the people here have been sent away, excluding me and Sidney (who is about ready to leave when I'm ready). It's gotta so bad here that we're finally moving out._

_Oh, I can't stand it. I need to get my mind off of this. I need to write. And you know that I have HATED writing. I always had. Remember when I was feeling lonely, and would type notes to Henry? Radar needed the stupid typewriter ALL the damned time, but let me use it when he finally had one himself? So, it's my fault that the 4077th has TWO typewriters. And I can thank Radar for it. I love that guy to death._

_Dammit, the windows just went! Hawkeye, I am so scared. I just want to say…how much I still love you. I will always love you, no matter what. And, when they find this note and mail to you, remember that. I love you, Hawkeye._

_Let me tell you a little story (I better make this one quick!) that I told Henry, months ago, it seems, just so that I can get my mind off of this. Hawkeye, I never told you this for a reason, thinking that you were not ready to hear about little old me having another lover, but here I go. There is another reason why I hate Colonel Flagg, our lovely C.I.A. officer. I told you many reasons, like he was my former Commanding Officer, a prick, whatever. He was also the killer of my first love, who is known as Falk, which is Yiddish and German for "falcon"._

_Oh, remember I would doddle them all the time when I had paper, instead of writing? That was partially the reason why and sometimes I don't think about it. I miss him, Hawkeye, like I miss you, and let me tell you this now, you both are in my heart forever._

_Hawkeye, remember, you are my Love now, and nothing can change that, but I can understand if you're angry with me about not telling you. Before I met you here in Korea, I had Falk. He is like you in so many ways: the prankster, making fun of the Army and, of course, keeping his sense of morals and values high. He never compromised himself, just like you do, and I see a lot of him in you. This is what attracted me to you, to be truthful, and to see you as a different person made me see everything in another light. You are you and Falk…was…Falk and that's that._

_Like I told you, I was assigned to West Germany. Although my records say differently, I was there after the World War, about November of 1946, I believe (it's been a while, I can't quite remember right now). That was already five and some months ago already! I can't believe it, Hawkeye. West Germany was still suffering from the last war and it showed through its economy (picking up slowly) and buildings that were being rebuilt. Of course, I walked around a lot, doing my assignments for Flagg, and I met up with the civilians of the city._

_And, like I said too, I met some interesting people, and two of them changed my life forever. In Berlin, I met up with a Jewish rabbi, who survived the concentration camps with his grandson, who was named Falk. His parents were long gone (his father had "disappeared" and his mother was dead) and the two lived together, putting their lives back together. So, we became acquainted and the rest, they say, is history. Kinda like us, in a way._

_We worked together, Hawkeye, and it was super dangerous, since we all worked for Flagg. Falk was part of the militia for West Germany and made fun of it…because he could. He joined up with our little spying ring when he found out about it…because he could, of course…and really did work hard. He headed up my motley crew of people, who were under my thumb. Well, I wasn't much of a Commanding Officer, really I wasn't, but Falk helped me get the point across to the other people. He headed missions because I was too high-ranking too. My neck was on the line and I could not be killed._

_We were engaged after his grandfather's death. I don't remember when that was right now. I know that the timing was not the greatest. All we wanted was a family and to be together for the rest of our lives, like I want to be with you, but Falk's last mission took that away, just after Christmas of 1949, when he went to Moscow (yes, that's right, the capital of the Soviets). And that was where he died. I found out from Flagg much later, and it still stings, but he's gone, gone from me for a long time now._

_That's all I can think about right now, details are escaping me. This bombing is driving me insane! I want it to stop and –_

_Sidney just came in here, Love. He's telling me that we have to leave. Our next destination is Wonju, where it's safer. It's many miles south of here. I don't know how many miles it is, but I'll be sure to tell you more later. All I know is that I had better run soon. I have five minutes to pack. Our last patients are already out the door, albeit more frightened than ever before, and Sidney and I are the only ones left. And I have to move!_

_I'll mail this letter whenever I reach a post or someplace safer, where I can stop and think._

_Love (ALWAYS!), Jeanie_


	9. Suicide is Painless

_January 27, 1952  
Wonju to the 4077th, Korea_

_To Dean and Hawkeye…because I know you are both there!_

_Oh, God, I am safe! I'm here in Wonju, South Korea, where there is no fighting and no Chinese and North Korean soldiers. Sidney can talk to the patients in peace and they aren't frightened as much as they were before. Now, I make my reports quietly, slowly typing on a typewriter and thanking whoever I am sending these to that we are here finally. It's a relief, like you both cannot believe!_

_I know that I have been writing of things that I feel and things of the past in my letters recently. So, you two, I must tell you of something miraculous that happened today. But, I have to tell you two this! I find it very amusing indeed and I think you both will too._

_Oftentimes, Sidney is called to someone's room because he's threatening suicide or is trying to do something to harm himself. In this building, we have a section for those who attempted to take their lives, separated from the others so that they could not make them jitterier (hearing of an attempted suicide or a successful one is actually pretty scary stuff and seeing a gurney going down the hall with a body under a sheet gets the others fired up). Well, I find it maddening, but Sidney says it must be that way, on orders from the Army…and him, as well. He also mentioned that it was the same way in the States, so I shouldn't be all that worried about it. It's a normal thing to separate the suicidal ones from the more normal ones._

_"I know you're a very compassionate woman," Sidney added when he had lunch the other day. "Sometimes, though, even you have to stop being too involved in people's lives and caring too much. That's the nurse in you. It's a dangerous trait. You're here to observe people, not give them comfort. You're _not_ the nurse here, but a guest, helping the Army. Although why they brought you here is puzzling. You're just as unmilitary as Hawkeye Pierce."_

_I shrugged my shoulders, forking a wilted piece of lettuce in my salad (if you can call it that even). "I've been in the Army since around 1941, Sidney. I can't help but care about people. I've lost too much and too many over the years that I can't help it."_

_Sidney nodded, his look registering the latest loss and I knew who he was thinking about immediately. "He was a good man, Jeanie. You can't blame everybody for Henry Blake's death. You can't even blame the people who shot him and his pilot down."_

_A tear went down my face. I could not help it. I usually can't._

_"How could you say that? Sidney, the Army killed him!" I choked back a sob. "Henry Blake also never saw his son!"_

_I was practically yelling that last line. It still hurts me still that little Andrew Blake will never get to know his father._

_"Calm down, Jeanie." Sidney looked at me with worry and it wasn't the first time (we were also alone, so I didn't feel the embarrassment factor afterward, i.e. stares from other people or comments behind hands). "I understand what you're talking about. Henry Blake was, sadly, a casualty of war. It's not fair that he died. But, you can't hold hostility in your heart about it. The grief will pass. You'll feel normal again. Life goes on. The Army did its job and sent him home."_

_"He never made it home," I pointed out._

_"A tragedy of war, is it not? Like I said, you can't blame anybody, especially not yourself."_

_Sidney tried to smile, but he, too, was grieving about Henry still. I could tell that he was trying not to cry. He had to be the strong one here._

_"Of course, of course. You're right."_

_I calmed down, not wanting to discuss anything further, taking another bite of Army food and listening to the sounds of the place we are in now: the unique pattern of the raindrops, the uneven footsteps of the patients and even the inane banging from the next room. Hell, all I had to do was open a door and there was a hallway, leading to locked rooms of patients, who long for sanity. I had the same desires they do, but I had to keep mine hidden._

_"I have your orders again," Sidney brought up after moments of silence. "You're heading back to the 4077th next week. Colonel Potter needs another hand and the wounded are coming in by the dozens, so it's said. Major Houlihan can't ask for any more nurses. They need you back."_

_"And the Army needs my last report and conclusions?" I asked as I heard some screaming the hallway: words I couldn't quite make out yet._

_"Yes," Sidney answered, cringing at the uproar in the hallway. "Excuse me please. It seems like a patient is calling me."_

_And then, he ran out. The door slammed right behind him, causing me to wince and then jump up when it made a loud noise, like an explosion. It seemed too final, like an explosion let loose, and then, the finale: death._

_When I was less shaky and was sitting down again, I tried continuing eating my lunch, but I couldn't make my hand move the fork and knife over my food. All I could hear were the screams of a man who was threatening suicide and his fighting against the restraints of the men who worked here. He screamed and screamed a harsh sound, more like an animal than a human._

_No, that is too cruel for me to say. I cannot say that. But the noise sounded so unreal and not human that it made me shudder._

_Then, the man outside said some words I can't forget, something that made my mind work and grind, starting to make me think carefully: "Suicide is painless! Take it or leave it! Suicide, suicide, suicide is painless! It brings changes to us, oh, yes, it does! No, no, no, let me die, let me die!"_

_And this man kept repeating these words, his voice echoing down the hallways, but growing fainter as he was dragged away. I knew that he was being led back to his room for observation or to the section where the suicidal are put and watched. But, the wheels in my mind were working too. His words almost sounded true, but in a different sense. And I didn't mean suicide in the literal sense but in a figurative sense almost._

_Suicide…what does it mean? It usually means to take one's life because of depression or a sense of loss, right? It's been frowned upon by Christian society for centuries and considered to be the greatest sin of all, right?_

_Thoughts in my mind raced. Suicide…did it really mean that we ourselves had to take our own life? We were committing the greatest grievance to "God" that there was? Or, could suicide mean that we ourselves were sent to places, like here in Korea, and expected to do totally impossible things? We are moving towards our own "suicide" and it was not our fault at all, like in the traditional sense of the word?_

_You two know that these are dangerous – albeit liberal – words and ideas from a godless woman. I don't know why, but it makes sense to me. Suicide doesn't mean taking your own life, but being forced to sometimes through the most outrageous tasks and duties. Doing insane things helps too, I think. And, look where we are now: Korea, in the middle of a war (NOT a "police action") and either hunting the enemy or patching up wounded. Is this not our "suicide"?_

_Words came afterward, which is what amuses me. Me, a person who does not write much except for letters sometimes (and it's been better, I think), had words coming to mind about suicide and what changes it brings us. It's almost seems incomplete, but of course…I think?…but I imagine you both, of all people, would know what I am talking about._

Suicide is painless  
It bring on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

I try to find a way to make  
All our little joys relate  
Without that ever-present hate  
But now I know that it's too late

The game of life is hard to play  
I'm gonna lose it anyway  
The losing card I'll someday lay  
So this is all I have to say…

_And I keep thinking about "Suicide is painless" being all that I can say. Hawkeye, I know that we all said it at the beginning of the war. We used to joke around Painless Pole, remember? He wanted to commit suicide and you guys put him to sleep after a "Last Supper" scene, with Father Mulcahy begging you guys not to do anything to let him take his life (because, of course, it was unchristian of us to). Frank and Margaret, of course, wanted to get you guys for helping someone kill himself (because it was unmilitary of us to), but we know Painless Pole wasn't going to die. His own "suicide" was painless._

_Painless Pole even went home after three months of being in Korea with us, the lucky bastard. And he took a nurse with him (instead of Leslie Dish, who was soon Henry's) and went home to a normal life again, happy and confident in himself. There were no more thoughts about suicide._

_Dean, I don't expect you to understand it all, but if you do (or don't)…talk to me. I am desperate to talk to someone about this, to make them understand my thoughts and feelings. Hell, I want out of here as much as the next person. Already, this is "killing" me. I don't know about you, Dean, but this is hell. War is hell and you know it, deep within yourself, even if you can't admit it out loud. And Hawkeye will agree with me._

_I have yet to tell Sidney about this, but I think he knows something is up by the way my face has changed. I feel relieved and relaxed, in some way, about this. I feel like a burden is off of my shoulders. And talking with the soldiers here and writing my reports seems a little less annoying than ever before._

_Sidney notes the small details, for sure, and asks me about them later (and later can mean many things, sometimes months, I've noticed). I can't tell him yet…I'm not so sure about his reaction to my new thoughts about suicide…but I'm sure it'll amuse him if he doesn't take it seriously (which I doubt). This is already amusing me!_

_Well, you two, I have to be heading off. I'm sorry about mailing them to the both of you, courtesy of the Army and the lack of paper here, but I needed to tell the both of you something and I didn't want to write two letters telling you both the same thing. Not to mention, my hand has been sore from writing about this. I just had to get it all down!_

_I love you both and send every ounce of it I have left!_

_Yours, Jeanie_


	10. Dearest Trapper

_January 31, 1952  
Wonju, South Korea to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Dearest Trapper,_

_I wanted to thank you for your last letter, which I received today. It made my day, since the last few have been a little down, depressing even. Mail has been pretty slow here (to send one is slow even!) and to receive something from somebody is usually a great gift, like you can't believe._

_Well, I think you can remember, seeing as how you were here for a little more than a year. You can understand how great it feels to get a letter._

_Oh, and I also wanted to thank you for the new pictures of Shannon. She's a few months old now and I can't believe it! Well, she's a little over four months old, to be exact. And she's now teething? That's amazing. I can see that her hair is getting longer (you mentioned how dark her hair was, almost black!) and that she looks a little like me, like her nose and not-so gummy smiles. I don't know if she looks like Simmons or Hawkeye yet, but time will tell. Babies seem to look all the same to me._

_You can probably see that I'm not too motherly still. I feel like I am her mother, but too distant, like an aunt or something. You know what I mean?_

_I'm fretting, I know. You remind her everyday that I'm still her mother, in every way. You show her pictures of me and tell her that I'll be home soon enough, so that we can live together happily and peacefully. Oh, Trapper, I know that you do these things and more. And I can't thank you enough for taking responsibility for her, even though the Army pushed it on you. I'll send as much money as I can, to help you and Louise, so I hope it'll be enough to satisfy (and shut up) your wife._

_Louise is warming up to her (I see that already). I can tell, with her quick notes to me (I have a few) and telling me how much the baby makes her want to have another one (false sincerity?). I know that she's still very resentful and has another child to take care of, but Becky and Kathy love her and have been taking the time to take care of her when their mother cannot. And they love to play with her too, which pleases me greatly. I would have thought that the two would have been as resentful as their mother, but giving up space, sleep and everything else seems like an adventure to them. Wonderful!_

_Those pictures in the park with the three girls are amazing…really, they are. You must have had a fun day, taking them all out and letting them play in the post-holiday snow season. Well, Shannon is too young, I think, but Kathy and Becky seem to have a good time, despite having to stay behind sometimes to see Shannon and carry her around if you couldn't._

_Oh, I can tell a lot with pictures and these days it's easy to make a story in your mind about what's been mailed to you. You can take anything and imagine a perfect little world in which your family is running around without you, how they're faring without you. This time, of course, I just wonder about why my baby daughter is bundled up and running around in the cold with the arms of girls who love her unconditionally._

_I'm worrying again. You know better than I do, of course!_

_Remember, Trapper, how I called you the other day, your last letter bothering me? Other than you talking to me about how my baby got severely sick and then is on the mend (next time, tell me as soon as you can please!), I then told you about that poem I was writing in my head, after that patient who screamed about suicide being painless. I know I didn't say much about it, since we had so few precious minutes to talk because of those tricky little lines, but I'll write down a few lines, since you seemed so interested (and was laughing about me being a "poetess"!). Well, I've put down what I have so far. This isn't quite a few lines…_

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

I try to find a way to make  
All our little joys relate  
Without that ever-present hate  
But now I know that it's too late

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The game of life is hard to play  
I'm gonna lose it anyway  
The losing card I'll someday lay  
So this is all I have to say.

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The only way to win is cheat  
And lay it down before I'm beat  
And to another give my seat  
For that's the only painless feat

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The sword of time will pierce our skins  
It doesn't hurt when it begins  
But as it works its way on in  
The pain grows stronger, watch it grin

_I don't know. It's all I have so far. I kind like the "Suicide is painless" lines repeating, like a refrain to a song. But, I feel like I'm missing something, like a beginning and an ending to it. I can't tell if I'm finished or not, since I've never done something like this before (you all know I avoided writing and such for as much as I could and that poems of some variety, except if read, are shunned). So, this is very weird…and a little bit, amusing, to be truthful._

_Please talk to me, Trapper. Give me suggestions or something! I need something to put my mind at ease, because this is driving me crazier than the 4077th! Is this something that will come to me when it does? Either way, I need to know!_

_Well, Trapper, I must go sadly. I'm sorry this is a shorter letter than most, but I do need to go. Sidney is depending upon me to help him this afternoon with a patient and I have my last report to type up. Thank God, I'm leaving this place and going back to the 4077th. I'll miss the disturbing quiet of this place (now that we are away from the action), but also not having wounded to worry about for days at a time. Shifts, after all, barely exist here._

_Kisses to Shannon, love to the girls and greetings to Louise –_

_Yours, Jeanie_


	11. Shell Shock

_February 2, 1952  
Report of Captain Jeanette Morrison  
R.A. 28491374  
Wonju, South Korea_

_To the Offices of General Louis P. Amund, Psychologist and Medical Officer:_

_Sir,_

_I have been reporting to you this past month about the psychological events surrounding men when in a combat zone and when away from one. First situated in Injeup, South Korea, this psychological ward, as your offices have called it, has been overrun by the Chinese and North Koreans. Forced to move to Wonju, South Korea – more to the south – the men have been settled and, by the last hour I was there, calmer and recovering at a faster rate than in Injeup._

_My astute observations are as follows:_

_~Service personnel closer to the Front, especially when under "Shell Shock" (see below point), are more prone to mental disorders and are unable to cope with the dangers around them. Their mental wellbeing is directly affecting their physical wellbeing and vice versa. Both have to be well in order to be functioning, especially at the Front Lines. They should not have to directly deal with the same conditions, as they are supposed to be recovering._

~"_Shell Shock" has been studied since 1914 by the British before the First World War, who originally thought it was the physical explosion of the shells themselves that caused men to act as they do. The first thesis had explained that the vacuum effect of the shells caused air to disturb the celebro-spinal fluids of the person, causing the brain to dysfunction. However, with more study, "Shell Shock" has been slowly classified as a mental illness in soldiers. It is still, mostly, not accepted as such._

_~Symptoms of the patients in the institution included irritability, insomnia or restless sleeping (sometime causing physical harm to themselves or others), depression and anxiety, shaking, paranoia, inability to relax, back pains, mistrust in others, headaches, restlessness, indecision and a lack of concentration and even substance abuse, such as alcohol, marihuana and others. Others are often plagued with nightmares of their former actions or will forget where they are, walking the hallways at any time of the day. Some, when hearing the shells, will starts screaming or become angry._

_~With the presence of M.P.'s, the paranoia level of many soldiers' minds has increased. Installment of Military and other Army personnel has given them reminders of their "former lives" and their actions during the war. They do not need to be reminded of their deeds, but to be away from the action or sent home. This is a real threat to the personnel of this Army and will continue if nothing is done._

_~My conclusions about "Shell Shock": DO NOT send any more men back into action unless they are completely recovered, both physically and mentally. Most will not be and possibly will never be, so it is not suggested that their illness to be taken lightly, but much more seriously. As far as has been determined, it is highly suggested that those who have been diagnosed with "Shell Shock" are to be taken away from their unit and put to rest, far away from where they've been fighting, preferably Stateside._

_More study needs to be completed, assigned and passed onto by Sidney Freedman, Psychologist._

_As you can see, Sir, this is a serious matter and SHOULD BE, without delay, taken into grave deliberation. Please consider this proposition with the utmost care and take action as soon as possible._

_More information can be reached through Major Sidney Freedman (The U.S. Disabled Soldiers' Institution, Wonju, South Korea) or myself, Captain Jeanette K. Morrison (M*A*S*H 4077th, Uijongbu, South Korea)._

_Thank you for your cooperation and assistance in this matter._

_Jeanette K. Morrison, Captain_

_Sidney M. Freedman, Major (co-signer)_


	12. Could You Read It?

_February 5, 1952  
The 4077th to the 43rd, Korea_

_Oh, God, Dean, I am back! I'm back here at the 4077th!_

_ Damn, I was so happy to be back, despite everything that is going on right now. I am sitting here writing in Post-Op right now, leaning to and fro on my chair and checking on everyone every few words, but that's all. I'll tell you more later about the sadness in my letter, but to taste the welcomes on my tongue once more and to finally share it with you…to remember how I came back here alive…still makes me want to weep with joy._

_Everybody that mattered to me – Hawkeye, Radar, B.J., Klinger, Father Mulcahy, Kellye and even Colonel Potter – were there to greet me when I was finally dropped off at front of the main building of the unit, nearest the Swamp. I was hoping to see you when I came back, in open arms with everybody else…except, you weren't there. Colonel Potter informed me, as he saw my puzzled face (knowing that I was missing you and noticed the absence, of course), that the 43rd was shipped to Munsan, with Daddy's unit (he had come back apparently…so I've heard). You're being used as back-up, I'm assuming._

_I hope you're safe, Major Morrison, because if I find you wounded at this unit or heard that you're at another, I swear to God, I'll be kicking your ass! Then you can recover…with me watching your dumb ass._

_Anyhow, Dean, this isn't the only reason I am writing this letter. Other than missing you right now, I have something to tell you. I need to tell somebody because it'll only make me feel worse if I don't and only you would understand me. You also need to know all of this because if you don't, it'll make you feel worse, much more so than I am._

_I'm rambling, Dean, so I'll get to the point. I'll continue this story._

_Of course, this began as soon as Colonel Potter greeted me. As Radar took my bags and was told to put them in the nurses' tent (my "other bag" being put in the Swamp, naturally, on mine and Hawkeye's orders), Hawkeye, B.J., Father Mulcahy, Klinger and Kellye left, telling me to visit up when I'm less tired and wanting some company. Colonel Potter, though, stayed and asked me to do the same. He needed to talk to me for some reason._

_"I have something for you, Captain," was how he put it as he put a friendly, albeit a bit fatherly, hand on my shoulder, making me almost jump up a mile. "It's a bit of important news for you from H.Q. Seoul."_

_I was hoping it was my discharge, but I knew it wasn't because of my sentence. I was supposed to stay in Korea until the end of the war, remember?_

_"Of course, Sir," I replied stoically, hostility and ice still in my heart. I like Colonel Potter – I do, Dean! – but it seems like he can never replace Henry. I miss him with a passion, everyday, and it hurts me that he's still gone from us._

_I followed the Colonel back into his office, passing Radar as he went back to work after putting my bags away. However, I knew that he was going to be eavesdropping at the door, as he's always done. With this new Commanding Officer, though, Radar has to be sneakier. I found out that Colonel Potter thinks that Radar is "squirrely" (I've heard him say it many times), but that the Company Clerk means well. And Radar always does, you know that._

_Anyhow, we got into the office – the office in which so many meetings happened, so many laughs were heard and many more complaints ignored – and Colonel Potter sat down at HIS desk and asked me to do the same, in the chair in front of the desk._

_Colonel Potter then sighed, as he were carrying a huge burden, and looked at me with such big sympathetic eyes for what seemed to be like the millionth time since last October, knowing all that happened when he reviewed all of the records. He knew about Henry and knew just how much he stuck out, like a sore thumb. But, try as he may, nothing can change anything. Henry is gone._

_"I have something for you," he began, almost uncertain of himself, not knowing how else to begin._

_"I kind of figured, Sir."_

_I was silent afterward, no words to tell him. I mean, he wasn't Henry. Colonel Potter can _never_ be Henry. But I guess he means well, as I've said so many times before, trying to get the camp's morale up since Henry's…demise._

_Colonel Potter took something out of his desk's drawer: a very water-stained envelope. I saw it immediately. Oh, my mind went reeling at the sight of it and I didn't know why. I was scared – and even in great grief – when I saw it and read the words on the envelope, all addressed to me._

_I knew then, right then and there, what it was. Colonel Potter's words only confirmed them: my greatest adversary, my greatest fears coming to reality._

_"Captain, this is the last letter written by Colonel Henry Blake before he took off for Japan from the airport. This, as well as his body and that of his pilot, have been recovered from the Sea of Japan a week ago. The bodies have been sent home."_

_Colonel Potter shook his head, as if he could not bear the shame of another dead causality of the Korean War, and handed the incriminating object to me. "I'm sorry for this loss, Captain. He was a good man and did not deserve what he got."_

_"You have no idea, Colonel! You really don't!"_

_Tears, without warning, suddenly came down my face as I saw, in my own hands, the blurry handwriting of Henry's on the envelope: black, a fingerprint in the center, an address on all corners. He was going to mail it from Tokyo General, Dean. And the 4077th's address was below my own name._

_Colonel Potter took my free hand, holding it in comfort as he reached from his desk. "Nobody did, Captain. Nobody does."_

_"Henry Blake never saw his son…" I sobbed, not knowing that my grief was still underneath my calm exterior still. "Andrew was born while he was here in Korea and he never saw him…"_

_The Colonel just continued to hold my hand, stretching it from across his own desk still, and rubbed it with his thumb, as if he could stop my tears. Then, through my unclear vision, I saw him look over my shoulder and motioned to someone with his other hand, mouthing a name I could not form with my own. Then, before I knew it, Hawkeye was behind me: rubbing my shoulders, whispering in my ear and trying to get me up._

_"Pierce, take her back to the Swamp," Colonel Potter ordered, slowly letting me go as the tears continued to pour down my face, Hawkeye practically picking me up and leading me by the hand, trying to get me to stop stumbling. "Calm her down. There's something in here for all of you, mostly for the Captain. I don't want you going through it just yet either. Later on. Just take her back to the Swamp and take it slowly."_

_"Then let me read it!" Just as suddenly as the tears came down, determination lined my face as I remembered the letter in my hands. "Let the camp know the last written words of Henry Blake. Turn on the P.A. Let the world know all about it!"_

_Hawkeye was up in arms, just as equally determined to get me to calm down and not make the camp break down in tears again. He knew it could happen again, saying quickly to stop me from going to Radar's space, "Jeanie, not now. Not now. Let's heal –"_

_Radar then came in, interrupting Hawkeye. "Choppers!"_

_Then, we were outside before I knew it again, movements going so quickly that I had no time to think. And then, Radar's words, all those months before, came into my mind again as the bus rolled in with more wounded…_

"I have a message. Lieutenant Colonel…Henry Blake's plane…was shot down…over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors."

_As I helped Hawkeye bring in the first patients into the O.R. and prepped for the next session of hell, oh, God, Dean…that was all I could think about. That day, the one I would never forget for as long as I live, I swear to God (if he exists), will be etched into my mind before. And that letter, that damned letter…he had to write it, didn't he? Henry didn't know what was going to happen next. It must have been minutes before he died, Dean, right? It was written somewhere in Korea, before he died. He had to be alone at the airport, waiting for this ride. _

_Good God, Dean, no, he could not have known…_

_I am rambling. God, I am rambling. I'm shaking. Sitting here in Post-Op, for an overnight duty until oh-six hundred, has me shaking hard. I have patients to watch over, Hawkeye to wait for. Why am I so upset? I made sure I made no mistake in the O.R. It was very important. I carried myself far enough. Now, I have to handle three more hours, watching the Korean dawn come over me again. I've been here for almost two years now, Dean, and I have to see yet another sunrise in the middle of Korea. Will I ever see another sunrise, on the other side of the world? Will I stay here in Korea forever?_

_Jesus, I'm still rambling. I need to stop!_

_Hell, I did read the letter, Dean. I had to. I just _had_ to. When I was done in the O.R. – stretching out my body and trying to sleep standing up, being pushed into another shift, to keep sane – it was nighttime. The wounded were light in their numbers, but it won't be long before we had more. And all I had to do afterward was take a shift with Hawkeye for the night and survive another day…another day in the middle of a war._

_Henry had words for all of us, Dean…for you and me, as well, not just to everybody mentioned n the letter. I couldn't believe it, older brother, I cannot. He wrote good words before he left, giving us all love and inspiration to move on and hopefully, to go home soon enough._

_He was _happy_, Dean, he was happy to be going home. He was hoping to see Lorraine's face and kiss her, hugs the kids and live a normal life again. Now, he can't…_

As for _you_ and Dean, Child…you both know everything. But, I never really thanked you both for everything that I've seen. You've both taught me a lot of things (other than showing me your great passion) and it's helped me. I can be youthful and be strong, be sarcastic and crazy and even be feisty and wild.

You've both showed me how the years have shaped you, how they've hurt you, and showed me what life can be about. Love aside, life is more than a journey. It's a bumpy road. And towards the end of the ultimate goal we should have achieved, we should have had one thing that would let us go of life: knowing that what we've done, what we've lived and what we've achieved, has made a difference and left a mark upon everybody we've known.

_His last words, Dean…those were his VERY last words to all of us, a paragraph afterward telling me that he was mailing it in Tokyo and to take care. Oh, God, no, Dean, these words are the very last Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake made on this Earth, leaving it all behind for me._

_You can read it later the next time I see you and we can talk alone. No, you can't. But can you? Can you read those words that he wrote for all of us? Can we handle it together? Can you even handle it all alone, knowing that he will never come back to us?_

_The letter itself – and the appropriate objects Henry left for the others – been passed on to the appropriate people. We've all cried many tears, even majors Frank Burns and Margaret Houlihan (Radar could not read it, he could not, and just handed it back to me when he tried). It hurts us still, Dean. It always will. And even when we think life goes back to normal, it doesn't. Emotion creeps back up on you and then knocks you down at the knees. You hit the ground, trying to run and get away from it all, and you can't. You're stuck there, frightened, and wishing to get back up, when you can't._

_But it'll pass. It surely will pass. Then again…we said that all those months ago too. And it still hasn't gone away from us._

_I'll pause for the moment, Dean. I need to make my rounds again. Hawkeye is here._

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	13. To Keep and Suspend

_February 6, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Lorraine,_

_It's been a while since I've written to you. I'm sorry for that. I've been too busy lately, just having arrived back here at the 4077th and being loaded with work. I remember writing to you about how I left and what happened afterward and have since received your letter's response about what I've been up to and how mortified you were about the lyrics I wrote. Lots more has happened since then and I will tell you about it by and by, but first, I'll say something about the lyrics._

_I know you're horrified about them and rightfully so. After all, suicide is a topic that most people avoid and have considered to be the most horrendous act of all. But, like I've also mentioned, I'm not talking about it in the most literal sense (most would, seeing the word), but one of what we're doing: a slow suicide. We're driving ourselves into the ground with exhaustion and what we've been doing _would_ be considered to be suicide…figuratively and literally, I might add. We're doing the most impossible things in an impossible place._

_Do you understand now?_

_Oh, you'll probably never understand (Henry said as much when he tried telling you what we did in a letter), but at least I've explained it a little more instead of just sending them to you with nothing but a message that said, "Look what I did!"_

_Sounds so schoolgirlish, doesn't it?_

_Anyhow, just do me a favor and don't tell Mom about it. I'll write her a separate letter sometime later, as I know it's been a few weeks since she's gotten anything from me (to put her mind a little at rest and to tell her that I'm still alive, although on some days, she'll curse me for it). And this time, you won't be able to lie to her, since I'll tell her the truth…this time._

_Enclosed with this letter is another one, Lorraine, and I want you to hold onto it for me for a while. Colonel Potter, the new Commanding Officer of the 4077th, gave it to me only yesterday, knowing that it was going to upset me. However, it had my name on it and it was legal mail, so I was to have it. It was mine to keep, mine to read and mine to cry over. And this one is going to upset you, and I'm sorry about it, but you need to read these words._

_It was a letter Henry had written to me, just minutes before he took off and was killed._

_Lorraine, you're the only person I can give this to. I can't hide this letter from myself and remind myself of everything. I can't keep rereading those words and expect to hear from Henry again, knowing that he'll never come back. And, most certainly, I can't keep reminding myself of what was, what could have been and what the present circumstances are now._

_Hell, I tried giving this to every person that is in this letter, but they won't take it for obvious reasons (mostly, the same as mine). Hawkeye and Radar are too upset (the most, I should say). Trapper, back in Boston, has already said that if he sees the letter, he will kill himself and then haunt Henry (he means well surely and was trying to joke, but it came out wrong). Klinger says he'll use it as a handkerchief. Father Mulcahy said it was too big of a responsibility for him to hold, much as he would want to. Margaret Houlihan and Frank Burns both said that it would serve as a reminder to them of his death…and him as a human being (and them probably recalling how much of an ass they were to Henry)._

_They all can't do it. You alone can handle this. You've been keeping everything of Henry's (I heard it all when I heard that Henry's body had been recovered) and this alone can help with many things, one of them being understanding the lyrics I sent you and how we work together as a unit. You then can start to realize how real we are, here at the 4077th in Korea. You'll laugh too because it'll show we are all human._

_I give you the permission to read it and to ponder upon it. Laugh, Lorraine, because of the love Henry gave to all of us here and there. We will still miss him._

_Oh, I'm trying to laugh again, Mother Lorraine. We all are. It took a while to even crack a smile here again, but we all are trying to, even laughing at the pranks being pulled on one another once more. This will surely get you going too, so I should write this quickly._

_As always, it begins and ends with the Swamp and its rats…the human inhabitants, I mean._

_Hawkeye and B.J. have hit it off nicely ever since they met in Kimpo at the airport, so the two are just as bad as Hawkeye was with Trapper. So, since the camp rat is Frank Burns (as Margaret isn't as bad as she used to be and we're trying to leave her alone), guess where the two turn to?_

_It all started earlier this morning, after Hawkeye and I finished our overnight shift together. It was about six in the morning (oh-six hundred for us over here). I was tired, he was tired, and yet, something was up for B.J. was wide awake for some reason. He's usually asleep unless he has a patient to watch over and he's worried or has a shift, but this time, he was trying to stifle his laughter as he sat on his cot, which became apparent to me as both me and Hawkeye as we snuck into the Swamp quietly._

_"Good morning," I responded to B.J.'s giggles, seeing that the coffee pot on the center stove was empty and cold once more. I then quickly found a seat on Hawkeye's cot, a blanket stolen and around my shoulder in seconds (no coffee, of course, is forgivable). "How is the war treating you today?"_

_Hawkeye walked over and poured himself a glass from the still and then did the same for his co-conspirator one. Sipping from it, he replied (instead of B.J.), "We're going to be testing something today, Jeanie. We need your help."_

_"Oh, really?" I raised an eyebrow as I hurdled further into the blanket. "What now?"_

_"Major Malpractice over there does not believe in human levitation, unless it's in the Bible," Hawkeye explained, smiling as he tugged on some ropes next to him (hiding within B.J.'s things), making Frank move up and down slightly as he snored away in his cot, oblivious to everything. "We're going to be testing this theory on him very shortly."_

_So, that was why B.J. had a case of the giggles!_

_Oh, hell, I knew the two were doing it in order to cheer people up (and get back at Frank in the process) and make yet another point about the war and stay a little sane. Not only that, but they knew that it was completely harmless (much less so than before) and that Colonel Potter was going to let them off easily enough and not have somebody call a General on him. He's proven to be one of the guys like Henry and would not mind a laugh or two._

_Of course, Colonel Potter will look angry, but admit nothing else._

_I pushed off the blanket, stood up and rolled up my sleeves, despite the cold . "What do you need me to do?"_

_B.J. pointed to some bandages and a bucket of…plaster?…beside Frank's bunk. I didn't know what it was, Lorraine, but it sure looked like something that would harden when placed on someone anyway._

_"I think he also broke his legs and arms," B.J. said, laughing. "He needs a nurses' care."_

_I put my knuckles in my mouth, amazed about my mood changes more once._

_"Are you sure about this?" I asked as I picked up the bucket of something, finally going over to Frank's side with caution and sitting next to the bunk, knowing that I could wake him with my ministrations._

_"If the Colonel thinks it's a good idea right now, I think it's still fine." B.J. shrugged his shoulders in indifference._

_I let out a giggle. It was so loud that I thought that Frank would have woken up to it and have seen what we were up to, but he didn't (lucky me). I had time._

_"Ok, ok, I'll do it," I whispered back frantically, working quickly to help the Swampmen._

_Within a few hours, Lorraine, it was all ready. The casts were set and dried and Hawkeye had finished tying up the ropes. By then, it was nine o'clock and the sun was up and not quite warming and welcoming because of the cold. We had a few precious moments to assess our work, drink it in (with the real ones in our hands) and pat each other on the back._

_Frank had no idea what was going on. And that was the beauty of it._

_The Swamp was equipped to hold a man on its ceiling. B.J. and Hawkeye somehow got some extra supports for the tent so they could get Frank to the top and completely helpless (we knew that Post-Op was crowded enough as it is, hence doing it in the Swamp). So, as we finished up and continued to keep quiet, as to not wake Frank up, Hawkeye and B.J. worked his way to the top of the tent by pulling the ropes hooked up and heaving him to the top, attached to his cot still._

_When they three of us completed the work – the Major on the ceiling of the tent and a HUGE crowd coming to see what was going on – Frank had FINALLY woken up, trying to get out of his cot and start his morning routine. Instead of having a normal morning and waking up with his feet on the ground, he found out that he couldn't move and was suspended in the air!_

_The laughter was amazing, Lorraine. It seemed to have cured many a person's souls and made them forget about what was going on (the war, the letter from Henry and everything else) and remember how human we all can be, an inner child to be dealt with. It also felt like it was when Henry was the Commanding Officer of the 4077th: a bunch of people, working in Korea, finding the humor in everything childish._

_However, there were two people who did not find it amusing: Frank himself (naturally) and Margaret, who went all Regular Army on us as soon as she heard the yelling and the laughter. She ran from her tent as soon as she saw what was going on and stormed into the Swamp after a struggle (so many people blocked her way), the crowds behind snickering at her as well._

_Screaming at Frank while in her curlers, beauty mask and nightgown (the two went back and forth for a while), Margaret then tried to find the ropes to get Frank down and not really finding them around the mess that is the Swamp. I don't think that she wanted to touch _anything_ that was around the tent (save for Frank's side), but she needed to get Frank down._

_Now, Lorraine, this is the first time I've seen Margaret so passionate about Frank since Henry left. The two's relationship had been cooling down for a while now, so I was surprised to see her so mad about us teasing Frank again, threatening to go to Colonel Potter for this and even throwing the book at us…again._

_And THAT was the first time she threatened us with that in some time now._

_"You can try," I suggested from my seat by Hawkeye's bunk (where I settled again, in order to watch all of the action from an ideal spot), drinking from the martini glass that Hawkeye handed to me the moment before._

_Margaret found the rope by B.J.'s cot needed to get Frank down and finally managed to ease the cot (and Frank) down. When he was finally let down from his position in the air and whimpering on his bunk, Margaret turned to me. Her blue eyes seemed to have turned to ice (I almost laughed, remembering someone from so long ago) and her stiff Regular Army posture came out punctually._

_"Captain, you should have _known_ better. You SHOULD have known better!" she screamed at me. "After Captain McIntyre left, I thought the jokes were over. I thought that the infantile pranks were over and that you would distance yourself from Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt. I thought that you would rise above this – this silliness and stupidity – and act more mature and grow up and –"_

_"Major, it's just a harmless prank." Colonel Potter had, by then, parted the company of people gathering around the Swamp and had gained entry suddenly, quietly, as if he had the stealth of a youth. "The Captains meant no harm. Now, if you think they did something wrong, you and Major Burns can take it up with me in my office later."_

_"I want them all to pay for this!" Frank stood up in an instant, waking up fully finally and knowing what happened, stumbling with the plasters around his legs and arms. "I want to press charges. Those animals should be in the stockade!"_

_"For what, Frank? And to what purpose?" Hawkeye defended himself, the best way he could: reminder. "You can dance from table to table again and not receive any more help while we rot away in the stockade, chipping away at harder material. Well, at least it's not blood, but it'll be red sometimes."_

_"He's actually right, Major Burns," Colonel Potter added after Hawkeye. "And we all had a hand in this, so you can't blame Pierce, Morrison and Hunnicutt fully. It's also my fault."_

_This was, apparently, a surprise to Frank and Margaret. She left her mouth agape and he was incredulous, silent even._

_"Of course we wouldn't press charges if the Colonel was participating in something so harmless like this," Margaret finally said after most of the camp had enough of the action and started to leave (some staying until the end though)._

_"Well, of course, if we did…" I heard Frank mumble afterward._

_"Let's not do it, Frank," Margaret cooed as she went to rub Frank's shoulders. "It's not worth it. It's not worth the time."_

_Colonel Potter shrugged his shoulders. "As you all wish," he said to the commotion. And with that, he left the Swamp._

_Within this mumble of voices as we officers finally argued about the issue at hand (Margaret and Frank against me, Hawkeye and B.J.), we all heard over our heads on the P.A., "Attention, attention all personnel: attention. For all those who want breakfast in bed, food is being served in the Mess Hall now."_

_And with that, Lorraine, I must close. I'm sitting here in the Swamp writing this letter, but also giving blood for B.J.'s patient in Post-Op (the needle is in a left arm vein, so I can write). Since Dean and I are the only ones within the area with AB negative blood, we're usually being used for patients with that blood type. I'm pretty close to giving three pints just today (ouch!) and Dean is finished. He just gave his pints, stood up too quickly and passed out on the floor. Hawkeye needs help getting him up now._

_Your daughter, Jeanie_


	14. More Insincerity

_February 7, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dear Mom,_

_I apologize for the lack of letters that I have been sending to you recently. During this past month, after working so hard in Pusan, I was sent back to the 4077th on orders from the new Commanding Officer, Colonel Potter, who replaced Henry Blake back in October. I should be angry about my end to the preaching to the Korean families (I have helped to baptize many families), but I'm actually a little relieved. Perhaps it's because it's back to the same, old routine from long ago?_

_I cannot tell yet, but I can tell you that I've been staying away from the evils of life: cigarettes, silly pranks, alcohol and sex. I am sorry that I dabbled in the last of the four, for Shannon would not have been born because of it, much of a blessing she has become to everybody. Oh, I am such a poor sinner and I beg, everyday, for forgiveness from the Lord. He will forgive me through penance and give me the peace I so crave. His hand will guide me, as will Father Mulcahy, who is my Earthly confessor in all things here at the 4077th._

_Lorraine will tell you more in the letters that I send her. I find no words to give to you, my poor mother, who worries for my soul daily. I pray for you as often as I can (everyday, I know to do so) and Clarence, knowing that he is in heaven, wishing that I would be there with him when I am go to the next world. Please help me in my prayers to him, to keep his position and love in heaven. He will understand all, Mom._

_I must leave now, Mom. I have Post-Op duty in a few minutes. Major Burns will be there with me, as will Major Houlihan._

_Your faithful daughter in Christ, Jeanette Karen Morrison_


	15. I Think That's Enough For Now

_February 11, 1952  
The Swamp_

_Oh, Hawkeye, Love…_

_I know you're supposed to be gone for the day, being at the 8063rd and all, because you're the Chief Surgeon (and everybody here loves your skills as a surgeon), but I'm still worried about you. There is enemy activity around the area (according to I-Corp) and anything could happen to you on the way there and back. And we don't need a dead Chief Surgeon instead of the useful one everybody is used to. You do need to say no to these trips!_

_Well, I'm sitting here in the Swamp right now (obviously), with Frank and B.J. doing their business quietly (they aren't bothering me and don't mind that I'm lying here on your cot, Frank's comments about me silenced for a while), but they can't make me stop this worrying about you. I mean, it's also pretty important not to interrupt Frank reading the Holy Bible and B.J. sewing up his torn socks._

_Well, I _could_ interrupt Frank from his reading (B.J wouldn't care either, but think of some way to make some more chaos). I mean, we _did_ change some of the words in the New Testament for him and I don't think he noticed yet. The Commandments in the Old Testament were only the beginning for Frank!_

_I'm so glad that everything turned out ok last time, especially when you and B.J. asked Colonel Potter on his opinion on the most recent prank! I know that you two could have had a court martial…or worse. Knowing Frank though, he would have had that and some hard labor or even the dishonorable discharge, which would have had made you two smile and wiggle your fingers in a mock salute._

_However, I don't want to see you two go through that because I know what it will entail to, so please try not to. I read up on it and it isn't pretty._

_God, Hawkeye, I miss you by the minute. And I don't think I can define that anymore since I can't write much in the way of love letters or anything like that, this being my first (seriously, I never wrote Falk since we saw each other everyday). I just hope you see this on your pillow and remember me always as this being the first love letter that Jeanette Karen Morrison ever wrote in her life (with bets that Dean will see this and laugh about it)._

_You know, I don't like quoting my mother, but she said this best: you can never know when the person you love will be gone from you. It could come at any time. Oh, hell, I could be alive one moment and be dead the next. This is war, sadly, and I don't want to see the both of us – or either one of us! – gone within an instant._

_I love you, Hawkeye. And I think that's enough for now._

_Yours always, Jeanie Love_


	16. Frantic and Worried

_February 13, 1952  
The 4077th to the 43rd, Korea_

_Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean!_

_I think the worst is over now. Enemy shells have been bombing the hell out of us for a while now and I think it's stopped. I'm sitting here in the Swamp, helmet on still and listening to the echoes of the explosions (I think the planes moved to another target for the time being) and wishing that they miss everybody else or stop altogether. We don't need anybody else getting hurt in this unit…or anywhere else, for that matter. The locals don't need this. We don't need this. Oh, hell, why don't we all do what Hawkeye suggested and have a cocktail party instead of bombing each other to bits? Last person standing will win the war. How simple is that?_

_I'm frantic, Dean. I'm shaking again, as you can tell from my handwriting. You're still in faraway Munsan, with Daddy ahead of you with his troops, and I'm here at the 4077th and all of this is making me nervous by the day…by the hour…by the minute…by the second. I know you're coming back in another week if things work out right, but it still makes me worried that you're too close to North Korea. You're a Major, and officers are usually the most valuable when it comes to prisoners._

_And, knowing that you are the son of a famous Colonel, you're in for a rougher ride than most prisoners. I could pay ransom and try to get you out, but Daddy…would he help?_

_You're not the only person I'm worried about, older brother, so don't fret about. Hawkeye is here with me. He was shot in the leg by a sniper on his way back from the 8063rd M*A*S*H the other day, limping into camp as soon as the wounded came in yesterday. He took a jeep and went there alone, without a driver like what was ORDERED (out to be demonstrating something new he learned from a magazine and had used on a patient successfully earlier in the month), and he said that, on the way to camp, it blew up before he was shot at and there was some South Korean soldier there to help him back to camp and oh, my God…_

_Dammit! I'm rambling again. I can't stay calm, Dean. I'm worried. I'm very worried about things. After seeing some of your men, I half-expected to see you all blown up too. They said that it's a bad battle up in Munsan and it's getting worse and worse. They said you kept them as protected as possible and only followed your orders from whoever was higher up than you, trying to shield them from enemy fire while trying to battle at the same time._

_How can you do that, older brother? How can you? It seems impossible to do it. You get them to fight and try to keep your wounded to a minimum._

_Corporal Beckett…you remember him? He's your right-hand man and drinking partner for Rosie's. He's here right now. So are Privates Jones, O'Neill, Mueller and Waterston, who are all dong well. There's also Sergeant Pauls, but he's not doing too good. He's sustained a head wound (with severe nerve damage) and has not woken up yet. B.J. said that the damage to his head is so severe that he might be transferred to Seoul for further treatment. We can't do some things here, he mentioned, and the doctors in Seoul or even Tokyo might help him. He's out of our hands if he doesn't improve in a day or so._

_Things have, otherwise, been a blur, Dean. There were so many little things going on that I find too little time to mention them, so let me tell you the most important…_

_More things have come out of the wreckage in the Sea of Japan, where they found Henry's body, all waterlogged. Pictures have come back to me mostly, all those pictures that I don't want to see anymore. Others were of the whole unit or some of the gang in the Officers' Club, you and the 43rd included in some of them. I put them away if they are mine, but I usually ask Colonel Potter if he could put them in the camp records, so that it could be within easy reach and show that it happened. It all happened. Henry was here, Dean. He really was._

_Otherwise, things that came back belong to Lorraine, like personal belongings. Colonel Potter has helped me package them up and send them to Bloomington when I asked him, the sweetheart of a Commanding Officer we have (I'm warming up to him finally, I think). Radar could not do it, hoping, as we all do, that it's the last of Henry Blake and the pain we felt as his early death and that he doesn't have to see or hear of anything of Henry Blake as long as he's at the 4077th._

_Let it be the last, Dean. Let it end so I can bury Henry in my heart too._

_Sighing, Dean, I must stop. Hawkeye is waking up and begging me to do things for him since he doesn't feel like walking with crutches (and he's missed the enemy fire thankfully, due to the medication he's taking plus the drinking). So far, my list of things to do has been enlarged. From mixing drinks at the Swamp to giving Hawkeye rides in his wheelchair when no crutches are in site – to and from places in the camp – I work quickly. Anything that makes him happy will make me less worried. Already, his usual jokes have come back._

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	17. Finally, the Details

_February 28, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Lorraine,_

_It has been quite a while since I've written to anyone, even a page to my mother, so please send her my regards before she calls Korea again. Here, it has been super busy. The Chinese have broken through the Lines and have been fighting our side for a while now. While it's finally stopped for the time being – bombing us and all – we can still hear the noises of the Front Lines. More wounded are expected later this evening, so we're going to be in for yet another long session when they do come._

_The last one was hell though, and I'm sorry if this seems too graphic. You said that I was always sugarcoating everything and not telling you about my job with details. Well, here it is now. As Hawkeye and B.J. sleep here in the Swamp and our patients slowly wake up and ask me for help, I think about the O.R. session and how it started, which lasted until early this morning. Oh, God, Lorraine, it was insane…_

_We learned about the Chinese offensive only days ago, Lorraine. Immediately, we had to scrub up and ready ourselves for the wounded that just kept coming to us…and coming…and coming. It didn't stop. I don't know how long we were there in the O.R., but I knew that it had to be days, four at the most (sometimes I watch the clock and it seemed to have repeated itself a few times unless time stood still). And it was a repeat of everything, as I've told you when it gets bad: all hands on deck, four surgeons working too hard and nurses who had to learn what doctors knew from their training._

_It was not the first time for me to play doctor, Lorraine, but Margaret and I got through it ok when we pulled through together for our first patients of the session. And then, I had another patient, and another and another and…_

_Then, after about a few hundred hours in (so it seemed), when we all started to get used to sleeping on our feet and working at the same time, it started to rain. And when it starts to rain, it pours. Hard, cold, heavy drops hit the roof and leaked through, causing water to mix with the blood: a dark pink mixture I never knew could exist until I stepped into it. My boots were slowly being filled with a slushy, cold thickness that made me squish my toes playfully, as if I were a child again and walking through a rain puddle that washed through my rain boots._

_I could not help but think of that and almost giggled, thinking of me and Dean doing that when we were younger._

_As Margaret helped me to work on another patient – a child really – we ignored the coldness that seeped from our cold toes to our damp heads. And at that moment, God perhaps forgiving me, but I wished for snow, knowing that it would, at least, not leak through the roof, but load itself on top of everything. Instead, we continued a cold rain._

_Sometimes, though, I learned that when you wish for something so hard (something that barely comes here by the way, to let you know), something else comes, something worse. Dammit._

_In the background, I heard Hawkeye singing, Frank telling him to shut up and then Colonel Potter yelling at everyone to simmer down, the arguing isn't helping anything. Radar, Father Mulcahy and Klinger were putting spare buckets everywhere when they were not asked to help with operations (Radar running off before he was asked…again). Eventually, though, Father Mulcahy had his own duties in Pre-Op and jumped from there to the O.R. Klinger assisted for a minute before being asked to being in another man. They both continued jumped from table to table, helping when they could. It was appreciated._

_As I finished my eighth (or was it the ninth or tenth?) man, I was still pumped up and ready for more, full of energy as ever before. Margaret needed a break, so she decided to take a small one as another nurse took over for me, one that was helping Father Mulcahy briefly in Pre-Op. Nurse Florence Higgins, who is new here (came in just before the session started and barely got to talk to Margaret), was helping me with her first operation. Already she looked sick, especially seeing as how she just handled her first Pre-Op session and then triage. Her delicate, lined features showed green running across her cheeks, her mouth poised to throw up._

_"Are you ready?" I asked as the next man was brought to me by Radar and Klinger, the latter's heels clicking away as he ran off to help bring in another man and then run over to help Colonel Potter with his next patient, his nurse being on duty for over a day (so they said)._

_"I-I-I don't know, C-Captain," she answered, her body suddenly swaying and her hand going to her masked mouth._

_I knew what it meant immediately. And I didn't need it._

_"Klinger, get her out of here!" I yelled, knowing that I was losing precious moments with the patient (chest wound that looked horrid, infected and getting worse by the minute if I didn't get to work soon). "Get her out of here!"_

_Nurse Higgins suddenly went to hit the floor with barely a sway, thankfully without throwing up ("Thank God!" Father Mulcahy would have exclaimed), as one of the yeomen was delivering blood to Frank. He caught her with one hand, Klinger on her other side as soon as I called him. The two dragged her out, the yeoman handing Nurse Kellye the bottle of blood needed for Frank's patient._

_"Who is free?" I called, knowing that I might have to work alone, but then having an idea in mind, even though it might not work. "Radar, get in here!"_

_"Sir, are you sure, Sir? What do you need, Sir?" Radar popped his head into the O.R., then knowing what I wanted suddenly. "Oh, no, Sir, I can't do it, I get sick, I –"_

_"Radar, please, I need you," I begged, trying to prep the man to go under (he was ready to go, the gas passer got him under, but I needed someone to assist me because I couldn't be the one searching for the instruments). "Scrub up, please."_

_I then saw a passing nurse who was heading for a break (I can't disturb breaks, Lorraine, nobody could, seeing as how rare they are and how much those on it deserve them), and barked at her, "Please get Corporal O'Reilly ready for surgery."_

_Colonel Potter didn't counter any of my orders and I was glad for it. He either didn't care or was too busy with B.J. operating on a patient. However, I did see him look up at me and smile, nodding his head with approval. It was all I needed._

_There was no time for pleasantries. We had to get working and working quickly was a pretty good priority._

_About a minute later, Radar came in, scrubbed up, gloved and in our usual white surgical garb (and looking pretty scared, by the looks of it). By then, I had decided to grab the first instrument I needed and went to cut into the patient and had begun the process of operating. I didn't have the time to wait anymore._

_"Dammit," I mumbled as I did, feeling the heat of the battle head-on. "Radar, suction!"_

_"What's that, Sir?" Radar asked, looking around on the instrument tray hysterically for what I wanted._

_I stopped what I was doing and pointed to what I wanted patiently enough, trying not to scream, although I wanted to. Now I understood when Hawkeye said that good help was always hard to get…and this was after Ho-Jon, the Korean boy that worked in the Swamp when we first arrived here, left Korea to go to Maine (remember, I told you that Hawkeye got him into school), only to disappear a month later. No reason was given._

_"It's that, Radar," I replied as calmly as I could. "It's mostly used to get bodily fluids out, so I can see what I'm doing or get out what needs to get out."_

_I stopped myself. It was Henry speak, but it was helping Radar. He understood me._

_Sweat suddenly started to pour down my face. Father Mulcahy went to wipe my face quickly as he saw it and moved on, hearing that someone had died in Pre-Op._

_Meanwhile, the atmosphere remained tense, albeit quiet finally (Frank and Hawkeye had stopped their bantering a while back, Colonel Potter telling them to keep it professional or else there will be consequences). Blood continued to mix with the water. Bodies continued to flow in. We continued to work onward._

_"Retractor," I said quickly to Radar, pointing to the instrument. "It's for opening skin or ribs, especially when there's a chest wound."_

_"What else, Jeanie?" Hawkeye called from his position on the other side of the O.R. "What else is the retractor used for?"_

_I knew that Hawkeye was trying to keep the mood light, since his singing earlier had made Frank angry and pissy (said it was distracting him from his work on his next patient, Hawkeye mentioning that nothing was distracting him by his malpractice). And it's not like I didn't mind the quizzing about medical instruments. It took me back to Boston, where I went to nursing school._

_I sighed, working and calling out for another instrument from Radar._

_"It's for keeping some organs held back while something else is worked on," I replied slowly, still on Radar speak._

_Just at that moment, the bulbs in the O.R. flickered, as if daring itself to use up their own energy on our usage. Finally, they all popped, glass shards flying everywhere._

_"Dammit, no!" I yelled as I covered the patient's body with mine. Everybody else did the same._

_"Captain, can you spare Radar?" Colonel Potter asked me frantically, panicking as he picked his own head up from his patient, glass on his head._

_"Yes, go, Radar!" I was breathing heavily in my mask. "And get the next nurse in here. I don't care who!"_

_"Captain, we're losing the patient," the gas passer said to me as Radar ran out of the O.R. "Blood pressure and pulse are going down."_

_"Oh, no," I whispered, trying to catch my breath. Then, sighing with relief when the lights came back on (Radar be thanked!), I shook my head free of glass. As Klinger replaced my bulb, I worked on the patient, massaging his heart, one of my last opinions left and one that I knew best._

_"Come on, dammit, come on. I know that you are needed here." I was growing scared by the minute, still working my hands and not knowing what to do but talk to him. "You have a family back in the States who are waiting for you to come back home safely. They're waiting for your next letter, knowing that you're alive still. They want to see you again. God, please, don't go just yet. I'm not ready to give you up for dead yet."_

_"Blood pressure and pulse coming up slightly," I was soon told._

_"What is it?" Hawkeye was finally behind me, done with his last patient, asking about the man whose life was in my hands…quite literally._

_"Systolic is ninety-one, diastolic is fifty and pulse is forty-five."_

_"It's still low," I muttered, still working on his heart. "Come on, come on, come on…"_

_"One hundred, fifty-five and forty-seven," the gas passer told me a minute later._

_Hawkeye smiled (I saw it behind the mask), looking over what I was doing. "You got the damage controlled and taken care of. Good. Ok, continue that."_

_"One hundred and ten, fifty-nine and fifty," was the next reading._

_"You're getting there, Captain," Colonel Potter said as he came by to see what I was doing before being called by Frank to assist (my nurse had also come by to assist). "Keep at it."_

_Suddenly, an explosion went off, my nurse assistant ducking as something went crashing down in the corner. She screamed, about to leave, but then remembered her duty and came back to my side. However, Hawkeye motioned that she stand back while I worked, a tidy little corner safe for her…for the time being._

_"Can we keep the war quiet?" I asked rather loudly, rudely even, as I heard another few explosions. "I want to keep my job here."_

_A raindrop even hit me in the head, as if telling me to keep quiet myself and to keep my sarcastic comments to myself. I had more to say about that too, but I kept quiet. I knew that anything else could go wrong and that it could be worse…like, soon afterward, I heard some screaming in the breakroom outside, doctors and nurses alike in the O.R. trying not to do the same. I didn't know what it was about (the bombing, most likely), but I tried not to panic along with the crowds._

_"I don't think they like the job security," Hawkeye commented as he looked over my shoulder again. "That's it, Jeanie. Keep your hands working, just like what you're doing now."_

_Lorraine, I had no idea what to do. I just acted and did what I thought was right. But apparently, what I did _was_ the right thing to do. So, I just went with it. Hawkeye was there to help me if I needed it. I was calm. I could do anything. I was able to save lives with my own hands._

_"One hundred and twenty, seventy and seventy," was the last reading from the gas passer._

_"Ok, you have him stable," Hawkeye said. He led my hands out of the body, telling me in so many ways to stop. "You've controlled the bleeding. Good job, Jeanie."_

_Another explosion went off outside, shaking the building._

_"Take a break, Captain," Colonel Potter called to me as another patient took over a table before him, stopping to help another patient and not Frank this time. "Pierce can finish up."_

_"Take a break, Jeanie," Hawkeye repeated. "Radar needs help getting supplies. He'll know what we need. Just carry and deliver."_

_I was in a deep daze. I didn't know what to do. Lorraine, I realized that I held a life, a grown person's life, in my hands. I held my daughter when she was born, just mere seconds after she was born, and realized how fragile her life was. It was the same for the man's life although I had not delivered him myself. His life was in my hands and I saved it, all by myself. I saved a life, just like that._

_I staggered out of the O.R., Frank behind me as he finished up his panicking job, and took a seat as Father Mulcahy and Igor (who usually serves us food in the Mess Tent and listens to our complaints all the time) brought another patient into the O.R. Taking my mask off, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes._

_"Did I tell you that you were amazing still?" I opened my eyes to the voice, seeing Hawkeye before me._

_"How long have I been here? Did I sleep?" I asked groggily._

_Hawkeye bent over and kissed me fully on the mouth, reminding me of how much I love him and how he recovered quickly with my help. He may like to keep everything in the dark sometimes, especially after Henry died and Trapper left, but the love was still there between us._

_"It was only a few minutes." He answered, pausing. "You saved a life in there, Jeanie. That was amazing. Where did you learn that?"_

_"Probably from watching you, Trapper and B.J. so many times," I replied, yawning and holding out my hand so that I could stand up._

_"Instincts, I'd say," Colonel Potter said as he came out, Hawkeye helping me up. "Captains, your breaks are over."_

_"Well aware, Sir," I yawned again. "Let me scrub up again. I'll be there A.S.A.P."_

_"As soon as it's practical, which is now," Hawkeye commented as the building shook again with another explosion, a plane flying overhead (I didn't know if it was theirs or ours, it was flying so low). "Come on, Jeanie. Let's join this cocktail party again."_

_The next hours flew, Lorraine, so I need not tell you all about them, as these are detailed enough. All I can say is that Post-Op is crowded, tents are crowded (the Swamp is filled to the brim and, for once, clean!), and I am, once more, being used for blood. My AB negative blood is super precious right now, as is my twin's._

_When Dean comes back, he'll be needed too, although I am sure that he won't like being used by "vampires" like last time. He has yet to come back yet. No reports have said or mentioned to me about him being wounded, missing or dead. Oh, I'll be happy to hear a word from him soon, so please God, please let him be alive!_

_I know you said to tell the truth, Lorraine, and to tell you everything. There is the everything that I have earned here: my job, my blood, my glory, my pride. It's all there._

_I won't write any of this if this has disturbed you greatly. Just tell me…oh, God, there goes another plane. It's not ending anytime soon, God, please, let it end soon!_

_I must let you go now, Lorraine Mother. Sergeant Davis, whose life I saved a few days earlier, is just waking up, thank God. My blood is pumping into him right now and he is now realizing that his nurse is connected him forever, writing and ignoring his confused looks for the moment._

_Love, your daughter here in Korea…Jeanie_


	18. Girls in White Dresses

_March 4, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Oh, Trapper!_

_You keep telling me to stop saying "Thank you!" for everything, but I can't help it. You and Louise are doing a good job of raising my daughter so far and I can't thank you both enough for it. I just received a note from your wife, explaining everything going on recently: about her first words and her first toddling steps. Shannon is almost six months old. Is she really growing up that fast? Is she really starting to act like an adult almost, with her childlike, garbling words and strange smiles? Only two months ago, I saw a semi-gummy smile in the park, rolling about in the snow with your girls. Now, I see a standing girl, holding your hands, wearing a white dress, her older companions, with pride, showing theirs off too._

_I want to cry right now. I want to hold Shannon right now. I should be there with her, not you and Louise. I say this a million times a day to myself, but I can't help it. It's my fault. She's there in Boston and I'm here in Uijongbu. She's in safety and growing up without me and I'm in danger and growing smaller in size (yeah, yeah, I _used_ to be petite, thank you, and not even getting close to my original size anytime soon, but I'm close with a little flab). We're total opposites in two totally different places._

_And yet, when the time comes to see Shannon again, will she know me as her Mommy? Will she even connect to me, as she does to you, Louise and the girls? Will she love me like she loves all of you?_

_I'm worrying you, Trapper. I know I am. You think I'm going crazy here and that the war ("police action"?) is getting to my head. It probably is…most likely is. We'll see. You never know. I mean, the antics of the camp have kept me sane enough. Or, do they keep me insane?_

_Let me now explain what's been going on here since you've left, things you've probably come to figure out…_

_Frank Burns is STILL here and has not left the camp yet. So, since you're not here, we have a new surgeon, who goes by the name of B.J. Hunnicutt (I think I mentioned him before). He's another Captain. However, he and Hawkeye still can't add up to Frank and Margaret (who are now joining forces once more). You know, as well as I do, that two Captains can't equal two Majors. However, _three_ Captains can add to more than what two Majors equal. Hawkeye and I tried it last week, before the spam hit the tent tops, but it didn't work. Damn._

_And then there was the second try…_

_Well, this past week, Colonel Potter has been over in Tokyo, going to conferences and all. We still have another day to go before he comes back, but we sure as hell miss him! Therefore, Frank and Margaret have held the fort called the 4077thM*A*S*H…and they aren't very popular right now. I mean, Margaret hasn't been too bad lately, but with her relationship with Frank, the point level remains the same: stable, but slowly sinking._

_Like B.J. explained, when we were all in Seoul (explaining that Hawkeye was not mutinying against Frank), the commander's seat wasn't even cold yet when Frank went loony, as he does every time he tastes power. He and Margaret mustered us for roll call – imagine, roll call! – and even woke us up with the bugle over the P.A. system once more, surely annoying one and all in the camp._

_And it was before dawn, around six o'clock in the morning._

_I was sleeping in the Swamp (yes, it exists still, rats and all) with Hawkeye and B.J. Nowadays, I spent my nights in there, tired of the nurses and their petty arguing and games. Colonel Potter lets me do it (it comforts me, which is what he was aiming for lately) and there I stayed when there was no other objection, save for the usual (and you know who that person happens to be). My things are moved in there and everything. I have a nice, little corner in-between Frank and B.J., the most private space in the tent, thank God._

_Anyhow, we three Captains woke up to the bugle, Radar at the door yelling at us to wake up before running off due to the unpopular wave. Hawkeye, as always, threw things at him as B.J. slept on, ignoring everything. I rubbed my eyes to wake up and looked around, hearing above my head, "Attention, attention, all personnel: attention. By orders of acting Commanding Officer, Major Frank Burns, all personnel are to report to the compound immediately for roll call."_

_"What is this?" B.J. asked, moaning as he moved his head from under the pillow. "What is it?"_

_"This is what I believe they call, 'The Army', so they say," I commented tartly, getting up and picking through my laundry, to see what was clean and what wasn't. I noticed that most of it had extra fleas on it, but I didn't mind. I never really did._

_"Whatever it is, make them put the call in later," Hawkeye replied, also moaning. "I don't make house calls."_

_"Up, up, up, you slackers!" Frank was finally at the door, blowing his whistle at us. "It's time for roll call!"_

_I put some pants on when I found the right green pair to wear for the day and sighed. I wasn't really in the mood to play "Military Woman" today. Frank could stick it and we all knew it._

_"Oh, come off of it, Frank," I yelled back finally (well, it sounded like yelling in my ears). "We're a bunch of crazy nurses and doctors. We're not up for military make-up."_

_"Well, after roll call, we're moving," Frank replied back, Margaret joining in with him and smiling. "So, get up and moving, you animals! You idiotic degenerates will know the meaning of 'Mobile' soon enough."_

_"Good morning, Major," Margaret said, smiling._

_"God, this is making me wanna puke," I muttered as the two left arm-in-arm._

_"He's exercising his command power too much," Hawkeye said as he stood up from his cot. He then grabbed his empty martini glass from the night before and took some swill from the still. We had an empty coffee pot on the stove and we all knew that we had no time to make some yet._

_"And he needs to be stopped," B.J. added in as he got up and put some socks and pants on._

_"How do I look?" Hawkeye asked afterward, putting on his bathrobe as he put the glass down._

_"Good enough for now," I replied, fully dressed and ready to go._

_"Good enough for a General," B.J. added, smiling_

_And so, we went for roll call as we were when we left the Swamp: Hawkeye in his bathrobe and undergarments underneath, B.J. with half of his uniform on me and being the most military of all with a full uniform on. And hell, we stood there, Trapper. We ALL listened to the usual spew of Frank/Margaret talks and Radar dismissed us eventually after everybody nodding off every now and then (I swear, B.J. and Hawkeye drifted off a few times). Then, the P.A. announced, as soon as we were dismissed, that we were moving…just like Frank wanted to. So, we went mobile, even though there was no enemy threat to the unit._

_We traveled down the road, just when it started to rain again (spring is coming, I guess) and set up camp, disturbing a Korean family about to settle down, their daughters in the mine fields, trying to see if it was ok to farm. Soon enough, though, we ended up operating on both of the girls, who were almost blown to bits when one of the mines went off (they both survived luckily) because one of their sticks found one: the common practice of finding safety._

_Frank was livid, as you can imagine, and ordered that the two (as well their family and ox) be sent to the local Korean hospital. And off the Korean family went…after Frank arrested them and investigated everything about them, to make sure that they were not spies (the wounded girls were even checked, much to Hawkeye and B.J.'s chagrin). The M.P.'s even rolled their eyes with annoyance._

_ I swear, Trapper! They really did!_

_The next day, we traveled again, further down the road, except we went through a few villages (with Korean families looking on and whipping out their tongues with disgust), into Yangpyong. It was then and there that we had wounded come to our door…when the people at the Aid Station found us. And since we just got up and ran, we had no Pre-Op O.R. or Post-Op (the wounded we already had were sleeping in the tents instead of us) and had to operate outside, roping off the area and making sure that everything was perfectly sterile. We didn't even have the supplies pulled out yet, save for surgical instruments, so we had every enlisted personnel, plus Father Mulcahy, yank out everything, in order to get…well, in order._

_Then, a few hours in (after everything seemed to be in order finally), we ran out of gloves, so there went the alcohol, save for the Officers' Club and the still supplies (although it was getting close and the Swampmen minus Frank were moaning). And trust me, Trapper, to operate with bare hands was not fun. We were overloaded once more and had fewer hands than ever before. So, we nurses joined in on playing doctor. And since that day I massaged a man's heart, I've been staying away from playing such a part. However, I was forced into it, being one of the most confident of the bunch, and worked onward._

_I had no choice. And you know, as well as everyone else, Trapper, that none of us had that to begin with._

_Soon, night fell. Radar found a tent big enough to put over everybody's head while they were operating – nurses included – and even moved some jeeps closer (with Klinger's help), turning on the headlights._

_It was amazing, Trapper, I can say that. I didn't like the operating bit, but to work in the nippy spring air, the stars out in the sky when you were done and stepping out of the tent…truly a sight from God, as Father Mulcahy would say._

_Actually, he _did_ say that, when we finished around midnight, pointing out the clear night skies, telling us to hope for spring to come. I'm starting to forget everything, I am so tired…_

_Anyhow, not everyone was happy. Frank, of course, was not (surprise of surprises, huh?) and called me, B.J. and Hawkeye to his quarters as soon as he could…which was seconds after we made sure that the patients were settled into the tents we erected in their honor. Our own things weren't even unpacked and we had planned on camping outdoors, roasting marshmallows and playing poker with some of the wounded when we didn't have a shift. Klinger, Radar, Father Mulcahy, Kellye and some others were planning on joining us._

_Might I add that, also thanks to Frank, who did not help with anything but practicing his malpractice, we just had enough room for everybody? It gave me some relief, since the area we moved to was not all that big and bordered on a few pieces of property that the Koreans owned. And I, for one, do NOT like angry locals._

_"Unmilitary, jokesters, a disgrace to this uniform," Frank commented as soon as we finished the O.R. session and came into his tent upon his orders, coming to him with our white gowns still on._

_After all, we were called that only because we joked and sang and tried to while away the hours in the O.R. before we went crazy with grief. And crazy we were…in Frank's book._

_"Oh, come off of it, Frank!" Hawkeye yelled back in the temporary tent called Frank's (which Klinger and Radar put up, when they were needed elsewhere). "We just had twelve hours of surgery out there in unusual conditions. Give us a break. Let us check the patients, Dr. Hyde, if you would so please."_

_Hawkeye then spotted a golf ball on the tent floor. Turning to B.J. as he picked it up, he asked, "Yours?"_

_B.J. took it and looked at it, spinning it around in his fingers and smiling. "Nope, it's not mine. I think it came out of somebody else's –"_

_"Knock it off, you animals!" Frank addressed the two Swampmen and then pointed his finger at me, backing up to the door of his tent as I came closer to listen to him before I tried to kill him with my bare hands (although, I could say, his words were something I didn't want to hear from anyone, much less him really). "You had the chance. You could have stayed away from these…maniacs…and been with me and Major Houlihan. You could have had us on your side. And then, you wouldn't be in love with some lunatic goon and have a baby in the States, with a nobody as a father…you, you, you…you whore!"_

_Hawkeye picked up the nearest thing to him, which was a fuzzy, white surgical hat at his feet (it might have been on Frank's head earlier) while B.J. immediately went for my arms, holding me back from Frank before I tried to kill him again – verbally and physically. My tongue and hands were still poised for that action._

_"Frank, if you weren't the Commanding Officer here, then I'd be suing you for impersonating a doctor." Hawkeye waved the hat as I growled and snarled for the right to grab Frank's throat. "While at that, I'd be suing you for impersonating a human being!"_

_"Sir, you requested –" Radar began as he opened the tent door, knocking Frank – who had been trying to escape (that coward) as Hawkeye drew nearer to him and B.J. was loosening his grip on me – in the head…as well as knocking him out, period._

_"Oh, my gosh, Sirs!" Radar exclaimed as he pushed Frank's dead weight body aside with the door and came in, papers in his arms. "Is he ok?"_

_"As ok as he'll ever be," B.J. said as finally let me go, knowing that I wouldn't do anything. He then helped me and Hawkeye pull Frank up to his cot, trying to calm Radar down next._

_"Radar, just go get Major Houlihan and ask her if it's ok if we move back to our original location now," I suggested next, cleaning my hands of the asshole who called me a whore. "I think it is ok now. But, she's next in command, so ask her."_

_"What should I tell her about Major Burns?" Radar asked, looking to us three Captains with anxious eyes, nervous that he'll have to deal with Margaret being pissy._

_"Tell him he's had a suppository and is resting from the exhaustion," Hawkeye suggested._

_"What's that?" Radar asked, his face turning red, having an idea of what it was, but somehow knowing that it was something embarrassing._

_"You don't wanna know," I replied, slapping my forehead and giggling._

_Radar did go out to find Margaret and everything started to go right again. So, thank God that Margaret had a little more sense. Of course, she saw that we could move back. She knew that we could go mobile…and mobile meant that we could go back because we could. So, within the day (after a drunken night at the campfire), we were back in Uijongbu, back in our original spot. However, we had to shoo away another Korean family, who said they were farming here and found it, fair and square._

_Well, it took Rosie's help to get the family out, but by then, we were all settled in and the camp was assembled back together…except for Frank. He was still knocked out-cold and did not wake up until yesterday, when the wounded came in once more. And until then, the camp was running smoothly, even if it was Margaret giving out the orders._

_I'm sorry for the Readers' Condensed Version, Trapper, but I have to. I'm running out of paper and I'm also running out of patience, especially with this writing thing that people seem to have said calms me down. Oh, and did I mention that the P.A. announced more wounded? I must fly, to put on my own little white dress, but a different one than the other little girls._

_Thank God, there's only a day left and then, some sense of sanity, without Frank Burns as the Commanding Officer! May we be spared from his wrath, which hasn't come down upon us yet!_

_Kisses to my daughter please! I miss her (and well as you!) dearly._

_Love, Jeanie_


	19. Pure Talent

_March 10, 1952  
The 4077th to the 43rd, Korea_

_Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean…_

_I am counting down the days until your unit comes back here to the 4077th to play guard. I know you're still in Munsan playing solider, so I can't wait until you come here, where it's safer and without the insanity that is called our father. You'll be here for a while (thank God!) and not thinking about fighting the Chinese and/or North Koreans unless there's a sniper or something about in the compound. And since we're all a bunch of crazy people who make you giggle, you should have no worries…you can hope._

_Things have improved greatly. I know I haven't written much about things lately, but I did mention and passed word to you (via your men coming here wounded, who love me because I'm nicer than you apparently) about Frank. Well, Colonel Potter is back now, so you can wipe your sweaty forehead, knowing that your little sister is safe once more (not in the stockade because of murder), in the form of some sanity. Paperwork has been updated, Radar is sleeping again, his teddy bear is not torn apart by Frank and Frank…well, he has had his due already, in the form of Hawkeye and B.J. So, I'm all set._

_Oh, did I tell you about the 4077th Talent Show, which was about a few days ago? Colonel Potter organized it with this month's Morale Officer – Father Mulcahy – and it was actually a good laugh, hosted by the good Padre in the Mess Tent, with servers from the Officers' Club coming in and out (Klinger was perfect in a black evening dress and matching hat, ermine wrap, heels and gold earrings). Drinks were served, giggles were muttered…and some good talent was out and about, even yours truly, your little sister, Jeanie._

_Father Mulcahy had allowed me the use of his piano from the Officers' Club and you KNOW how much I hate the piano (lessons were hell with Clarence, although he was a good teacher in the instrument). Well, I made use of my skills. Radar and I played a jazzy number when our turn came about. Why? Well…the little bugger asked me to help him, since he wanted to show off his superior drumming skills, so I couldn't say no. We practiced privately, mostly at Rosie's Bar (it was entertaining, especially with the Marines, but Hawkeye was usually there, to make sure nothing happened), and, when we hit the Mess Tent, we were perfect._

_Radar set the tune and I just followed, so it came out so jazzy (still!) that I had to laugh. "The voodoo art, that is," Mom used to say. Remember? But I loved it and was actually enjoying myself as I played._

_And so did everyone else apparently. It was pretty popular and the corpsmen and doctors were dancing with the nurses. Hawkeye sat next to me, his face in my hair as I played (his teeth also on my neck). Colonel Potter was with Margaret (Frank jealously watching from afar, but not saying anything to the Colonel). B.J. took on Nurse Johnson. Klinger randomly picked up a nurse or two, his dress and ermine wrap getting in the way of everything, of course. Even Father Mulcahy was snatched up by a nurse!_

_Afterward, our act was followed, with hilarity, by Hawkeye and B.J., after a long applause and a call for an encore (Hawkeye mostly, who liked to sit with me and nibble on my neck). Radar and I bowed (I must say that I felt happier, knowing that I was no longer called a whore by the nurses) and left to the sidelines, the two standing front and center of the stage area. I knew what they were going to do (well, the general idea of it), so I kept my mouth shut._

_Well, I think most of the camp knew what they were going to do, except for, of course, the target and his on-again/off-again girlfriend: Frank Burns and Margaret Houlihan._

_"That was great of Radar and Jeanie, wasn't it, Beej?" Hawkeye asked his co-conspirator as the two smiled mischievously, laughing and clapping his hands at me and Radar still._

_B.J. smiled. "Yeah, that was. But, you know what else is great? Frank Burns. You know, we all treat him like he's nothing and like he's such a jerk, but yet, here he is, in the front row with Major Margaret Houlihan, expecting us to do some act. Well, why not praise him?"_

_Hawkeye stopped laughing. "I agree, Beej. And you know what else? We should get him up here. Come on up here, Frank. Come on!"_

_From my standing position in the corner next to Radar, Father Mulcahy and Colonel Potter, I saw that Frank was blushing and fumbling with his hands. Around him, the camp in the Mess Tent was clapping and telling him to go up._

_"Speech, Speech!" someone yelled from the back row._

_"What in blazes is going on here, Captain?" Colonel Potter whispered in my ear as the commotion continued, good and bad. "What are Hunnicutt and Pierce up to?"_

_"A little talent is going on, and it's all I know for the time being," I hissed back, trying not to laugh again. "I can't say anymore, Colonel."_

_Colonel Potter just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head and continued to watch, as we all did, in suspense. As we did look back, we saw Frank being pushed on by Margaret to join Hawkeye and B.J. at the front, not a thought of knowing what was going on in that blonde head of hers. Margaret, of course, wasn't thinking about the two Swampmen and how they both equaled trouble (with or without me) and Frank, well…_

_Blushing still and stuttering that he had no talent and should not join the two doctors (clearly not showing anything for the show), Frank – humbled, perhaps, and acting the modest fool – finally stumbled onstage and reluctantly smiled at his two bunkmates. And still, he and Margaret were not suspecting a single thing…_

_"How goes it, Frank?" B.J. put a friendly arm around Frank's shoulder as he turned to face the crowd, turning beet red in the process. "How is everything going? Tiring? Loathing? Self-controlling?"_

_"Deadly? Wounding? Loving? Hating?" Hawkeye continued, putting his own arm around Frank's other side (I could see the wince on Hawkeye's face, but it was quick and barely anybody saw it). "Look, old buddy, you're such a great guy."_

_"And we can't tell you enough!" B.J. grabbed a mug out of nowhere – full of the still's swill, I knew – and pushed it to Frank's face, the latter denying it in an instant. "Here, old buddy, have some gin from the still! It won't hurt you."_

_All during this, I could see that people – who were once either yelling in disdain or giggling at the Swampmen going at Frank – were in dead silence (out of disbelief) or snickering behind their hands because they knew what it meant. I wanted to yell something within this sphere of mixed feelings, but I didn't dare. Hawkeye only requested that I keep quiet and watch out for the finale, so I wanted to keep that promise._

_I knew only that…and that something was going to happen to Frank._

_Margaret, though, was impatient as hell (one of many, I could tell) about the ending of their act. Standing up, she asked, "What is this all about? This is supposed to be a Talent Show, not some petty party!"_

_"Major Baby Cakes, you can rest assure that this is pure talent." Hawkeye laughed, taking the mug from B.J. and holding it to Frank's mouth as he refused it from B.J. again. The second time, though, Frank sipped from it, almost laughing at the same time._

_"Say, this tastes like cherry!" Frank complimented (and me remembering that, after the lemon cough drops, the two Swampmen wanted to put in cherry cough medicine and succeeded after somehow putting it in for the needed supplies list). "This is great, guys. I thought you were animals…degenerates…immoral and unmilitary…but say, you guys aren't too bad after all!"_

_Margaret sat down upon seeing Frank so happy, calmed for the moment. However, something was bound to happen soon. She knew it by the way her neck tensed up. She knew that a prank was about – the only talent the two doctors could muster up – and that it was only a matter of time before it happened, finally figuring it out and possibly cursing herself for pushing Frank onstage. She counted the seconds, but nothing happened. She counted the number of times Frank drank from the mug of Swamp swill, asked for more, and laughed with Hawkeye and B.J., and nothing happened._

Was it to be? Was there to be no prank? Is Frank safe from something stupid this time? _I swear, that were her thoughts!_

_After a few minutes of joking around with Frank (with everybody getting restless and bored and about to leave), Hawkeye and B.J. unhooked their arms from Frank's shoulders and gave him the mug to drink out of himself instead of one of them holding and refilling it for him. Hawkeye then disappeared behind the back of the stage while B.J. stayed a short distance from Frank, watching him and still laughing._

_"So, Frank…to show you of how much of a swell guy you are, Hawkeye and I have a surprise for you." B.J. moved a little more away from Frank, trying harder not to cackle in-between words. "We all know of your love of war bonds, supplying for the people you love financially…and, well, there's something more we'd like you to have. Hit it, Hawk!"_

_Hawkeye, from behind the scenes, must have pulled a rope or something, for some gold liquid came pouring down…on Frank's head as he was still drinking some of the still's gin! Frank's mouth was still open and tipped back with joy, so he was drinking in some of that liquid._

_I didn't know what that gold liquid was, but by the look on the Major's face, Dean, it must have tasted worse than the gin he was just having moments before._

_Laughter broke out before we all knew it. Hawkeye came out from behind wherever he was and went to B.J., the two giving each other those high-fives, to congratulate themselves on another job well done…in Frank's case, of course. Then, joining in with the merriment with everyone else, the two jokesters also pointed and giggled laughed at Frank, who stood there, smoke almost coming out of his ears, his mouth poised to complain to somebody about their unmilitary actions, surely a disgrace to the outfit…but that somebody was not there to listen to him for once._

_Margaret, on the other hand, was equally unpleased with it. She knew, though at the last moment, that something was going to happen and didn't stop it. Half of me said that she was indifferent to Frank getting canned, but at the same time, half of me also pointed out that her stiff Regular Army "spit-and-shine-your-boots" attitude was still there…and coming out along with the greatest lament for Frank in the longest time._

_"You animals!" Margaret eventually screamed (even with Colonel Potter in the room). "Oh, Frank, are you ok?" She ran to Frank, but started to slip on the gold liquid, landing in her lover's now-gold arms. "Oh, Frank, are you ok? What have they done to you, you poor thing! We'll throw the book at them, we'll –"_

_Father Mulcahy the Morale Officer – amused greatly along with everyone else although also seeing the disaster – tried his hardest to calm the chaos, but it was to no avail, of course. Radar was covering his mouth, but then heard something and had to run out the door of the Mess Tent. Colonel Potter just laughed and tried to look stern (failing miserably), remembering how much of an ass Frank really was to him beforehand (and remembering our complaints earlier in the day about how much of one Frank really was when in command). Klinger's eyes widened with amazement and, also trying hard not to get involved (avoiding K.P. in the meantime), waltzed away in his high heels, stepping over the little rivers of gold that happened to dribble down the aisles and underneath the benches._

_In the meantime, I, your most lovely sister, tried not to giggle, but I couldn't help myself. I stuffed my knuckle into my mouth, trying to keep my face straight, but I couldn't. All I could do was walk over to Hawkeye (my knuckles out of my mouth), giving him a big kiss on the mouth, and said, "That was great, Love. What is that…goo…though?"_

_Hawkeye returned my kiss deeply and smiled as he held onto my body with one arm, first watching B.J. take a push broom from a corner and, well…push the gold liquid towards Margaret and Frank, and then looking back at me. His eyes showed me confusion – innocent, even! – and then turned quickly to glee and joy._

_"I don't know what it was," Hawkeye admitted finally. "We mixed a little something here and a little something there. And it came out all gold."_

_"At least it isn't toxic, Pierce, or we can hope it isn't," Colonel Potter added, coming up from behind me and trying to keep a straight face for Margaret…for when she was finished with the initial shock and ready to complain with Frank._

_"Exactly, so there's no harm in letting him clean up the mess," Hawkeye replied. Then, breaking away from me and Colonel Potter and climbing back up onto the stage near Frank and Margaret (avoiding the gold liquid, whatever it was), he added in a yell, "There, ladies and germs, is our pure talent!"_

_It took a while for everything to calm down, Dean, but it was, most certainly, something to remember. And I wish you were here to see it with your men, adding in the chaos!_

_Well, maybe not, because you all would have been in the way and not helping with the clean-up. It _did _take a while for the gold mess to be cleaned up. Of course, Hawkeye and B.J. had to help because of Margaret's complaints and Frank threatening to get the M.P.'s again (Colonel Potter was still laughing though, but thought the punishment fitting). But, a trace of it remains on the floor of the Mess Tent. Frank's clothes could not be salvaged, but his hair had be shaven because of the mess. That, and it also started to fall out…by the chunks!…minutes after it was poured on his head._

_I must close now, Dean. I hope to see you soon, hugging you close when I do see you._

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	20. Good News, Despite All

_April 1, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Lorraine,_

_I know it's been a while since I've written, about a month really, but it's been busy here, I swear! I know that you've heard from my mother because of the small notes I've been sending to her. I've given her the rundown of things going on when I could and she's been praising me from the highest rooftops about how I have been improving (a little lying to her can't hurt her). I don't think she understands and is having a bad day, but no matter. I won't have calls from her for a while._

_Well, here's some good news along with some bad news. Dean is finally back here, guarding the unit, which is the good news. In fact, he's outside right now with his men, trying to figure out why we're being bombed and shot at. Yeah, we're under fire right now…which is the bad news. I'm writing to keep calm, so bear with me, Lorraine. I'm safe here in the O.R. The sandbags are triple-stacked in their protection and the windows are covered. I'll be safe._

_There is news of every sort in this camp. Well, first off, really good news (more of it!), to get my mind off of many things: I'm heading off to Tokyo next week! There is a few conferences and Colonel Potter asked that I go with Hawkeye (who plans to go golfing…and also, swimming with me in an indoor pool and having massages and drinking). Other than that, the time is mine!_

_It'll be a week coming true, Lorraine! I have not been in Tokyo since the beginning of the war, before I landed in Korea. But, since I'm also a security threat, I also have to have a C.I.A. officer with me at all times. Colonel Flagg is graciously sending me one of his men, someone I knew too from when we were all in West Germany together: Major Gregory Keller._

_Now, Keller is a pretty swell guy. He used to play poker with me and Falk (another person I knew, Lorraine, and I'll tell you more about him later, when I can) and wasn't quite a sucker to Army regulations and sticking to them except in front of Flagg (and even then, his paperwork back to Flagg, our superior, is interesting, to say the least). I'm glad for it – knowing that I had more partners-in-crime – because I wasn't quite into it either, despite it being used as an escape tool._

_Keller also helped with my own paperwork in West Germany when we worked there instead of letting me give it to someone lower in rank. I mean, I wasn't even working with him directly really (sometimes I did), but because we had the same paperwork, I had all the help I needed._

_Plus, he was a fun guy to be around. A drinker, not really, since he can't hold much down. But a good friend he was._

_So, when I heard that Keller was going to watch me in Tokyo, on orders of Colonel Flagg, I laughed until I nearly pissed in my pants (and Hawkeye was giving me a strange look when I almost fell out of my seat in Radar's space when talking over the phone with Colonel Flagg). Major Keller, watching me in Tokyo, just in case I don't cause trouble for the United States and Uncle Sam? Yeah, really, how nice to assign him to me! Now, Hawkeye and I can relax the proper way and even add a person to poker and bring another to the bar (sort of). Hawkeye doesn't know THAT yet, but he'll know…soon enough!_

_The next bit of news is a little bit exciting, to say the least (and it's a bit weird, in my opinion, and it'll see why in a bit). You remember Major Margaret Houlihan, the Chief Nurse here? Well, she was in Tokyo herself a few weeks back and met up with some Colonel or another, someone named Donald Penobscott (pretty sure I spelled it right). The two apparently hit it off quickly and are now engaged to be married._

_Now, you know that Margaret _was_ "in love" with the camp's other Army brat, Major Frank Burns. Recently, especially as Colonel Potter came here (over the course of a few months now), their relationship had been cooling down. Their partnership has almost become nothing except on key points during our stay here in Korea. Usually, it's been Hawkeye, B.J. and I pull something silly on her and Frank or do our usual antics in the O.R. to pass the time: bantering, joking around, mocking each other and even playing like children. Oh, hell, we three even ran out into the rain one evening and danced around, getting our clothes and boots all wet._

_Well, we all guessed that Margaret was looking for something more permanent, something that would give her satisfaction, and always being Frank's mistress and being in second place in his affections – waiting for him to divorce his wife – was not cutting it anymore. After he left all of his clothes to her in his will when he got sick and almost died, claimed to his wife on the phone that she was nothing, etc., she apparently had enough. She got engaged, told Frank about it before witnesses and that was that._

_Frank took it in stride at first and even congratulated Margaret and all when she showed him the engagement ring when we were all in the Mess Tent together. Then, after taking it "so well", Major Burns took the doors down of the Mess Tent, fuming the rest of the way! Later, as we've heard, he – totally tired (as I was on shift, I had Hawkeye claim that he clucked like a chicken all night and didn't sleep), not thinking and obviously upset – went all Regular Army and arrested a South Korean family, accusing them of being spies…again!_

_To amend this situation, as Colonel Potter was talking to the M.P.'s about freeing the family from custody, Radar quickly got on the horn and get to Frank's mother on, just in time…for sleep. Frank fell right asleep in Radar's little space (after spending nights awake), talking with his mother. Colonel Potter, in the meantime, had apologized to the family and sent them on their way to their farm down the road._

_That engagement broke up the former lovely couple, Frank and Margaret: the Regular Army pair. I hope it's for the best, and I wish my Chief Nurse all the best, but I don't think it'll last long, like her relationship with Frank Burns. Call it a feeling, Lorraine, but Margaret is looking for heartbreak. I met Penobscott when he came to camp yesterday. I just saw him and knew. Oh, good God, Margaret is in for some marriage…in a place like this. Dammit, she deserves more. She always did._

_Now, here's the update on Hawkeye: he sees again! Remember I wrote to my mother to say that he might not, because a heater in the other nurses' tent exploded in his face when he went to fix it? Oh, God, now he sees again! I was so worried for a while. A few months ago, it was his leg being shot up. He walks fine now, with a slight limp on occasion, especially when it's cold. Now, Hawkeye's sight went and, with it, almost everything for him: his career, which has been his life for so long._

_I know that I am rambling, Lorraine, but I have never been so happy to know that he's seeing again. Hawkeye may be less public about his relationship with me (especially around Colonel Potter, after Henry and what happened for a while there), but we still love each other…still in love with each other…and, for some odd reason, are now talking about the end of the war and what we want to do! Now, if Hawkeye lost his sight, he would be sent home (which was what got us talking, since we never thought of what we'd do after the war ends). And he would have waited for me to come back to him, sitting there in Crabapple Cove with his father._

_Because, Lorraine, when I am shipped back to the United States, there will be one place to live after all of this, after picking up the last of my things and saying my farewells to Bloomington, Illinois. After walking hand-in-hand with Hawkeye to get out of this place of hell, that is where I'm going to: Crabapple Cove, Maine._

_Other good news…let's see here…umm, B.J.'s wife, Peg, sent another package to him. This time, she baked peanut butter brittle. It actually tasted pretty damned good and went along swell with the new batch of swill the two Swampmen made…a rare bottle of chocolate flavored cough syrup going in it, just for me (because I craved chocolate and mentioned it one night during a poker game with the two Swampmen, Colonel Potter, Radar, Father Mulcahy, Klinger and Sidney Freedman). Too bad we didn't have those marshmallows still. I would have loved to roast some of those in another campfire and have that chocolate-flavored gin._

_Oh, Lorraine, who am I fooling? I'm worried still, despite everything. Dean's out there and God, I hope he's ok. The wounded are settled down in Post-Op. My shift isn't until tomorrow, but still…I want this to stop. This bombing is making me nervous…_

_Dammit, Klinger just came in here with another patient and thank GOD it's not Dean, but one of his men. B.J. needs someone to assist him, so I will close now and keep my worries at bay for the time being. My addressed and stamped envelope is waiting for this letter right now, so I will hand it to Radar as soon as I am finished assisting B.J._

_With love to you and the children, as always –_

_Your daughter, Jeanie_


	21. A Proposal?

_April 11, 1952  
Tokyo, Japan to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Oh, Trapper! I have to tell you something, and I am excited about it, as ever before!_

_Well, here I am, in Tokyo finally (I've been here for a day now), after spending almost two years in Korea and not being able to see how this city is "The Pearl of the Orient" (I think I know why now though!). I have not been here since before I was sent to the cesspool called the 4077th, so I am enjoying myself immensely…if you want to call it that. I'm sitting in the hotel room right now. Hawkeye is shaving in the latrine (bathroom, I should say, as they call it that) at this moment, preparing for our date tonight. Major Gregory Keller, who is watching me on orders of Colonel Flagg, sits in a chair watching me, smoking a cigar and laughing about the night before. He's on our side, trust me._

_But, I must tell you as much as I can go on this date, so let me begin. I have so much time on my hands, you know!_

_After a day of poker with a few of the other soldiers here (Dean is also here, after receiving permission to go to Tokyo…to watch me too, for sure), Hawkeye and I have managed to attend one conference with a few more to go to. Hawkeye nodded off in the middle of it (naturally), asking me, before his eyelids went down, to take notes for him, since we were supposed to prove to Colonel Potter that we did something more than golf, have sex, drink, whatever. The lecture itself was on more effective ways for medical personnel to work in triage._

_Of course, I worked on the notes, since Margaret might need them, seeing as how the nurses now work in triage, to save time for the doctors and…well, you know all about it. Or don't need to be reminded of it. Either way…_

_Last night was just beautiful though, Trapper. In a hotel room, together with Hawkeye without Keller watching us (he was otherwise occupied in his room, so I'll tell you more about it later), I was in heaven, despite my irritation directed at people who were at the lecture (nonmilitary and some non-warzone military personnel who thought they knew better and tried correcting me when I tried pointing out something). You know about _that_. Now I know why you were always mad every time you came back from Tokyo conference!_

_But, in either case, Hawkeye and I got to share a room together, even though we were not married. Pleasures of the flesh are usually on our minds when we're alone (and rarely do we have that, even in the Supply Room), but not last night for once. I kid you not. I just wasn't in the mood last night. I wanted to talk about something, but could not find the words for it. I was upset._

_All day yesterday, while attending the conference and then going to the bar later on with Dean and Keller behind us (and beside us, when we got to the bar), I thought. I would walk through the streets of Tokyo, laughing and pretending that the war wasn't in existence and we were on vacation for life. I would walk hand-in-hand with Hawkeye and feel giddy and happy on the outside, but inside, I was crying. I would smile and giggle over the latest joke on the outside, but then cry when seeing a child with his/her mother on the inside. I would grin and reply a sarcastic comment on the outside, but then break down and babble about my baby on the inside._

_I was a mess of contradictions and I could not figure out what I wanted. All I knew was that I wanted Shannon and out of this war and I wanted her in my arms _right now_._

_Hawkeye noticed. He and I have gotten better at reading each other's minds and, when it comes to acting and pretending, he knows that I am still quite good at it, but he also knows that I wasn't me. I stink of the spy still and he can spot it in an instant. Iréne Mountebain cannot exist for Hawkeye Pierce. Jeanie Morrison had to. And he knew the difference between the two without asking questions._

_All night at the bar, before we went to bed, Hawkeye laughed with me, talked with me and even joked with me. After dancing to Cliff Edwards' (the jukeboxes are here, remember) "When You Wish Upon a Star", I felt Hawkeye dug his face into my greying hair, into my neck. And even that could not make me smile, could not make me happy. Inside, all I could feel was the pain that Shannon could not be his child possibly, might not _be_ his child. And when I get her back, after the war, and I go to live with Hawkeye, how will it work? _Will_ it work?_

_I couldn't tell. I _can't_ tell right now._

_At night, deep into the night after spending most of it at the local bar, I claimed to be deadly tired at long last and not up to playing our favorite game. As I got into my side of the bed, I rolled over on one side: comfortable clothes on finally, something not drab olive green or Army issued, and my now-long hair let down fully, the length down the middle of my back (and me remembering how you and Hawkeye would ask me when I would grow it out). I was warm next to Hawkeye as he embraced me as I laid there, but then I became cold, cuddling against my side of the blanket. My side was left untested, too cold to sleep on. Why was I making it that way? Why was I always so cold that day?_

_"Jeanie, what's wrong? You've been sad today. What's wrong?"_

_Oh, God, there was that familiar voice in my ears, on the other side of the dark room. It was a question from Hawkeye again. And it was that one that I _never_ wanted to answer anyone._

_I rolled back over, tired of being cold already, and faced Hawkeye. I wanted to be back in his arms, to cry on his shoulder, and say how unfair life was and how I'm still here and how I missed the familiar curves called love…holding onto my baby, wishing we were someplace safer and not in Korea…being home and not working on wounded soldiers in the middle of a war and not knowing when our last day was going to be. I wanted to forget the war, even here in Tokyo, and go to someplace that I can call home. I am tired of the fighting. I wanted to go _home_._

_I propped my body up with my arm. "I don't know, Hawkeye," I began, knowing what was wrong in the first place and admitting nothing so far. "I don't know what's up today."_

_Hawkeye sat up and looked down at me. He was serious once more: a rare occurrence._

_"You know what's wrong with you, Jeanie" he replied sternly. "Tell me. Tell me what's wrong."_

_In an instant, tired of hiding everything from Hawkeye – tired of being Iréne Mountebain once more – I sat up fully and practically jumped into his arms. I tried not to cry, but I felt tears let itself be known, traveling down my face, to show my own inner gloom. And I let it out all._

_"I miss my baby, Hawkeye. I want to go home, wherever that is. I want to go home. My arms feel so empty. I want to go home."_

_Hawkeye just held me. "I know, Jeanie. I know."_

_I looked up at him, almost amazed and sniffling. "You do? You do know?"_

_My tears were wiped away by Hawkeye's careful fingers, some of them lingering on my face. It made me want something more, but I ignored that feeling too._

_"Why wouldn't you? Everybody wants to go home. Why should you be any different? Jeanie, this is the second time you've been to Tokyo, the first on leisure. You're going to feel like you're having a good time, but it's not home yet. You know you don't have one and tried searching for it here, but didn't find it because nothing familiar is here but me, Greg and Dean. You're away from the war, but you're still sticking around with a guard watching your every move."_

_I giggled nervously, trying to dispel the mood. "Come on, Hawkeye. Greg isn't all bad. And he's not in here, like he's supposed to be. He gave us privacy."_

_"He's a lightweight," Hawkeye remarked, rolling his eyes._

_True, we had to drag Greg from the bar after he had three shots (widely spaced and slowly slipped), but it was all in fun, even after we put him to bed in his own room and decorated his space with make-up and gave him a haircut. And we had to leave the bar early because of him, Trapper. If we didn't, all of us were either going to the stockade or going to be dishonorably discharged by a General that didn't take lightly to being made fun of for his lack of hair and wig._

_However, seeing the face of the General that Keller was making fun of at the bar was funny._

_"I knew that," I said, smiling about the bar visit. "You could have asked me. It's why I always took him out for a beer when we were in West Germany. I could get him drunk fast and would put him to sleep."_

_I moved back to my cold spot on the other side of the bed and curled into a ball when Hawkeye suddenly, on impulse, wanted to get up. I watched him slip easily out of the bed, cross over to his luggage on the other side of the room and pull out a small box. Coming back to me, he smiled._

_"This isn't the greatest of times to give this to you, but now is usually a good time, better than later." Hawkeye came back to the bed, sitting me up as he handed me the box._

_I accepted it, opened it and felt my mouth open as I saw the object and picked it up, studying it as the box dropped to the other side of the bed. And oh, God, Trapper, it was a ring. It was an old ring: silver, thin and sporting a slightly fainted winding floral design on all of its curves. But, it was a ring nonetheless._

_"It was my mother's," Hawkeye explained quickly, as if to hide his own grief as carefully as I did. "It was her wedding ring."_

_I looked at Hawkeye like a shot out of the water when hearing the last sentence. And I was shocked, to say the least, saying just as fast, "Hawkeye, I don't deserve this. I would have thought – no, Hawkeye, what were you thinking when–"_

_He just took my hands, Trapper. He entwined all four hands together, the ring inside of my fingers, and interrupted me. "Because, Love, I wanted you to. I want you to wear it."_

_"Your Dad…" I started, but then stopped, trailing my sentence. I felt my heart skip a beat._

_"He sent it to me with his best wishes. He also says that he hopes to meet you soon."_

_Hawkeye then smiled and it was that smile that always lights up a room in an instant, making you feel like everything was all right and that life was great. Do you remember it, Trapper? Do you remember it, especially when you played pranks on Frank?_

_I laughed, shaking nervously. "What kind of proposal is this, Hawkeye? We're in Tokyo, in the middle of a war, and you can't say the words you want to say it seems. You're hiding something from me."_

_"When this war ends, I think you'll understand." Hawkeye sighed, letting go of my hands and almost turning his back away from me. "Your brother also wishes us well. He's excited."_

_I smiled, not surprised that my own brother knew before I did. "That's Dean, all right."_

_I then opened my hands again, still clasped together from when Hawkeye had then in his grasp, and held the ring in my palm, looking at it closer. The design that I thought was floral was actually thin vines and some tiny flowers at what seemed like corners, a name towards the bottom of the ring on the plain inside: "Addolorata"._

_"That was my mother's name." Hawkeye was still quiet in his corner of the bed, finally looking at me with a deeply saddened face, pained about something. "It's Italian. It means 'sorrows'. My mother was a very melancholy person, even when she was married and had children." He paused. "My sister was the same way almost, the exact replica of Mom. Loretta was only eight. I was ten."_

_I knew what Hawkeye meant. He just didn't tell me these things randomly, but through serious moments and sometime, in a situation like this, in sentences that hardly make sense, but had a deeper meaning. He told me about his mother and sister and how they died, a little more than a week apart: nine days, nine lousy days. And there was nothing that his father could do to save them._

_I didn't have names or anything like that (other than how they died), but that they existed and didn't. And I could tell that it still hurts Hawkeye to talk about it._

_"After they died, our mountain laurel bush in the front yard stopped blooming." Hawkeye looked like he was pondering something, talking as if he was far away from the present. "Loretta was born the day it bloomed, which was why she was named that. It's Italian for 'laurel' and Mom thought it was appropriate."_

_I smiled, but I was sad. Hawkeye was making me gloomy almost, letting me dive into his soul, to see the truth behind his blue eyes. Should I follow it? I did for a little bit, but pulled back. I needed to let Hawkeye talk it out._

_Hawkeye even continued musing and muttering for a minute or so, taking me back to that place called 'home' for him: Crabapple Cove, Maine._

_"Mom's name was too hard to pronounce for Dad, so he called her Annabeth, because of her middle name. It was Elizabeth." He paused again. "You remind me a lot of my mother…or what I remembered of her. You're just as quiet, just as sorrowful as she was. But you're also the best of everything I've known, and you are you, Jeanie."_

_I didn't know what this meant, so I took it as is, Trapper. I didn't know how else to._

_"Thank you, Hawkeye." I laughed, trying to get him to face me again and smile, like he was making me by this strange proposal. I succeeded, but barely. I got him back to my arms by kissing him fully on the mouth, muttering an "I love you!" in-between._

_Hawkeye responded to the kiss and grinned again, back to his normal self again. "Let's see if it fits you, Jeanie," he added in quietly, taking the ring out of my hands and holding up my left hand._

_I watched as Hawkeye slipped the formally cold ring on my ring finger, smiling as I did. Why? Well, Trapper, it fit perfectly. The ring fit my finger perfectly. It wasn't loose or tight. It was perfect, hiding the name of the person who wore it before me, mothering two children before something took her and her daughter away. Now, it graces the tiny fingers of me, the person that Dr. Pierce's son loves…the person he met in Korea…the person who seemed to have stole his heart away._

_God, Trapper, I'm becoming sentimental and I hate it. But I love Hawkeye, and being in love with someone just takes your breath away. You know it. You saw it. But, what can you see out of this almost disastrous – albeit happy - event, because we are in a war? What can be done? Margaret is engaged to some idiot of a Colonel, as I've told you before, and now, it seems I'm engaged to Hawkeye, if that is what he wants. We can't marry in war like Margaret can. We aren't Regular Army and he knows it._

_Maybe this is why he says that after the war, I'll understand better? Who knows with Hawkeye sometimes? I have to guess with him at times!_

_Oops, I must run now, Trapper. Hawkeye is about ready to go out and is waiting for me. I'll send his greeting to you, even if he won't say it to my face. Just please, do something about this. Send Hawkeye a note or something and end this animosity…and just because you left without telling him. I'm tired of being the middle person!_

_Sending love to you, Louise, the girls and, as always, to my daughter. Kisses!_

_Love, Jeanie_


	22. One For the Colonel: An Informal Report

_April 13, 1952  
Tokyo, Japan to the 4077th, Korea_

_Colonel Potter,_

_I know that the letters I am supposed to send you, especially concerning camp business and even trips such as this, are to be formal and typed. However, typing seems too impersonal and what I'm going to report is not formal, in the very least. Plus, I like to write them as I go. I seem to be getting better at it. I used to hate writing and typing altogether, but since this war started, it hasn't been too bad. I'm getting used to writing._

_Anyhow, Sir, I know that you would like to hear about what Hawkeye and I have been doing here. We have been attending conferences and taking notes studiously (they will be in the back of this letter, which will be sent to you P.D.Q., mailed this afternoon at the latest). Of course, you'll note that this is all in my handwriting. Hawkeye attends these conferences, but he's not all there all the way (meaning: he's sleeping through them). He does, however, look over the notes I've been writing up and has been diligently memorizing them…and throwing them in the face of the next new doctor who comes to the bars at Tokyo, looking for a cheap thrill before going to the war theater in Korea._

_So far, we've met up with two doctors going to the 8063rd at the bar, and they have had no idea what they're in for. I think Hawkeye just gave them a dose of reality…drunken style._

_Anyhow, the conferences we've attended included triage work, more Post-Op warnings (new diseases that have popped up and such), new nursing techniques (for Margaret, when she gets it) and procedures for doctors (Hawkeye can explain that one) and the evils of smoking marihuana and drinking alcohol. The last one is a problem with all of us obviously, but its former isn't a problem with us at the 4077th or any other unit that I know about._

_Well, wait…I forgot. The 21st Evac has that issue, apparent in the football game we beat them in, when we first came to Korea. Just warning you ahead of time, Sir. I don't mean to be judgmental or anything._

_There also has not been too much going on here, Colonel. Other than another meeting (a short visit at our hotel room, nothing more) with Colonel Flagg last night, nothing much happened here in good old Tokyo. Flagg, of course, followed me here and has been spying on me ever since. I just didn't think about it until last night._

_Apparently, Flagg can't trust Major Keller enough, since his reports have been sporadic, to say the least (drunk at the bar usually with the rest of us, my brother included). So, Hawkeye and I had a visit from the Colonel himself as we were preparing for bed, another few hours at the bar successful in our book, included into the records Dean and I keep and will laugh about later, looking back at all of the mess we've been in._

_I guess you and the gang back at the 4077th would like to hear about this little incident, so I might as well indulge you and keep you informed about everything. It's not like you're going to share this with every Tim, Dick and Harry out there, but keep it within the inner circle if you can please. I trust you, Colonel. I want you to know that._

_Well, it all began when Hawkeye and I just got into bed, like I wrote beforehand. Nobody was in the room and everything was clear, so we turned off the light. Suddenly, though, a rustle was heard in the corner of the bedroom, darkness enveloping it, the night shadows moving to and fro. It made me jump, but Hawkeye laughed nervously about it._

_"Is it a good idea right now to confess my fear of the dark and things that go bump in the night?" I asked him, clutching onto him tightly._

_"I guess we'll have to find out," Hawkeye replied, still holding me and looking at the corner without fear. The source of the noise becomes known to us soon enough as soon as he replied to me. Guess who came to spy on us in bed, coming in for a short visit?_

_"Ah, Iréne, I'd thought to find you here." Flagg took off his black camouflage (some help it gave him) and looked at me and Hawkeye in bed._

_Oh, did I mention that we were naked, Colonel?_

_"Flagg, get out!" I nearly yelled, throwing a pillow at him._

_The pillow missed Flagg by a foot, but he shot at it on impulse (a missile sent in his direction), scattering feathers and whatnot around the room and barely missing us, the lovely couple, who learned how to duck and did so quickly. Hawkeye and I cringed as we got up (slowly!) though, thinking that it might cause some of the other inhabitants of the hotel to complain. Well, Flagg fixed that with the hotel manager apparently, stating that he and the manager were in this together._

_"The C.I.A. doesn't need anybody's help, I thought," Hawkeye mentioned as Flagg informed us of this, still holding onto me (and covering me with our blanket, if you must know, Colonel). "So much for teamwork. Next thing we'll know, they'd be racing to kill each other."_

_"We don't," Flagg answered. "And don't be a smartass, Pierce. I know you. The C.I.A. doesn't need you and it doesn't need Iréne."_

_"Will you stop calling me that?" I asked, wondering when my past in West Germany will come to an end and that I can live a normal life once more._

_Oh, geez, you don't know anything about that. Sorry about that, Colonel! I'll tell you more about West Germany later, Sir. There are more holes in records than you think there are._

_"That's who you are and you can't change who you are," Flagg only said, walking around the room and occasionally, surprisingly, randomly sticking his gun in our directions when he thought we weren't paying attention and pulling it away. Then: "You can't confuse me now, Iréne. You never have."_

_"Yeah, and now, the bet is on to see if I can escape this country and hop the globe, right?" I let go of Hawkeye and covered my own disgusting body with the blanket. "What do you think I am, Flagg? A traitor to the United States? I don't think so. You know this. You hate me. You just want something to dig up so that you can destroy me."_

_"The C.I.A. doesn't tell anybody their secrets," Flagg retorted, his gun back on me._

_"And they don't even tell it to everybody else," Hawkeye added._

_"Shut up, Pierce." Flagg took his gun's aim off of me finally. "And, as for you, Iréne: I'm still watching you. Major Keller may not be doing a good job of it, but I'm still here. I'm around. And I'm still watching you and your every move."_

_With that, Flagg left us, jumping back into the shadows from which he always comes from. And, as usual, he made an extremely slippery escape, but he made it in the most unusual and stupid way: jumping out of the closed hotel window, making both me and Hawkeye jump with fright, not caring anymore if someone saw us naked. Since we were a floor up, Hawkeye and I had to look in on him, to make sure that he wasn't dead…again._

_As Hawkeye slipped into his bathrobe and I put on a nightgown and sweater, we went to the broken window, feeling cold air hit our face. Looking down with disheveled hair and sweaty hands marking up whatever was left of the window, we saw Flagg. He was on the ground, all right, and he looked hurt. His legs were horribly askew once more and his face looked like he hit the pavement of the sidewalk first, planting it firmly on the hardened cement._

_"Should we call somebody?" I asked Hawkeye anxiously, who only sighed back at me._

_"Since the C.I.A. doesn't help others, or each other, I think we _should_ leave this one to somebody else," Hawkeye pointed out. "It's not our mess. But, since we're here, we might as well help. Get me my bag, Jeanie. Let's make sure he doesn't need reconstructive surgery or something."_

_As I walked to the luggage to get Hawkeye his bag, I replied, "I think he'd welcome it though. It would make him more invisible to his enemies, real and imagined."_

_Hawkeye took the bag from me and smiled. "I think they're all imagined, if his mind can imagine it," he only said as someone knocked on the door (the manager of the hotel), demanding to know what was going on and why his comrade-in-arms, Colonel Flagg, was now injured on the pavement before his hotel._

_That's all I can report for now, Colonel, except for this bit of news: two days ago (well, three nights ago, I should say), Hawkeye proposed to me, asking me in his own weird way that night to marry him, talking out things that still bother him. Yesterday, he finally asked me direct and outright, when we were at the bar getting drunk silly (Major Keller and Dean were celebrating and were as drunk as skunks before the night was through). We're engaged! Of course, wedding bells will not be ringing until the war is over most likely, but I'd thought to pass on the news to everybody._

_Love to everybody except for "Ferret Face" and extra hugs to Radar, who lost his pet skunk the other day (I just heard about it). Call or write when you can, care of the Imperial Hotel of Tokyo, to bother us and/or lecture about our behavior._

_Jeanie Morrison_


	23. Seeing Captain Spaulding

_April 15, 1952  
Tokyo, Japan to the 4077th, Korea_

_Dear Radar,_

_I never really get to write you anything, so here's my letter (and, in advance, I'll say how sorry I am if I confuse you with anything). We have about two more days here in Tokyo and the medical conferences are over. The last two days are going to be for us (as if our seemingly endless nights weren't for partying and having a good old time anyhow). However, we have an extra man with us for the ride. You'll remember him from when Colonel Blake was commanding the 4077th, a long time ago: Captain Calvin Spaulding is in Tokyo right now and helping us have more fun than ever before we leave this city._

_Of course, we met him at the bar the night before. He was singing and playing his guitar, just as I remembered him, before he was transferred to the 8063rd and then the Aide Station at the Front. I guess he's had enough of the Aide Station (or the Army needed him elsewhere) because he's currently stationed at the 21st Evac Hospital. And now, he's in Tokyo on vacation (before he cracks, like we are), getting shows in at the local bars, in order to earn extra money, and then going back to Korea as yet another surgeon before having enough points to go home to his wife finally, which he says will be soon._

_I noticed him when Hawkeye, Dean (Major Morrison), Major Keller (Greg to me) and I were sitting on stools at the counter, drinking and toasting the successes of the day. When we all heard some singing, a man introducing one "Calvin Spaulding", I knew that we had found our man from long ago. Asking for another round for the four of us, I also asked the bartender to bring a drink up to the Captain, on my tab, and that we'd be toasting him._

_"Tell him it's from Jeanie," I added, sipping my newest drink and smiling._

_Hawkeye looked to the front of the room, where Spaulding was, and then looked back at me. He laughed merrily._

_"Oh, God, it _is_ Spaulding!" he exclaimed. "Bartender, add another from me for the Captain, on my tab." Smiling, he added to us, "I can't believe he's here. One night, he was with us and the next thing we knew, Henry had him transferred to the 8063rd, on orders of Ferret Face and Hot Lips. We never heard from him since because he was afraid of getting transferred to someplace worse."_

_Dean looked to the singer and back as us as well. "Well, I'll be! You guys are right."_

_My brother was pretty drunk by then. His large grey eyes had, long ago, turned a little more than bloodshot (red around the eyes, Radar). His speech was also a bit slurred._

_Greg also took a look at the singer, strumming his guitar and singing about the war and how cruddy it is still. Sipping his fourth shot of the night (and he wasn't buzzed yet, so he was catching up to me and Hawkeye for once), he said in a low voice, "Captain Calvin Spaulding is also being watched by Flagg, so be careful, all of you."_

_"And since Flagg is out of the game, Greg, we're good to go." I smiled again._

_Everything went a little quiet except for the noises of clanking glasses, various talks and the singing (Calvin is as amazing as ever before). A little while afterward, the singing stopped, and the voice from the stage area announced, "Ladies and gentlemen…well, I'll be damned. I got some of my friends back from the four-oh-double-seven out there in the audience. Thanks for the drinks!"_

_"Thanks for the good memories!" I called back, toasting Calvin. "Get your ass over here when you're done!"_

_I heard mirth around me, Hawkeye patting me in the back, laughing too, but nothing more. I was becoming nice and numb from the drinking (it explained why). You know, it's kinda like you relax and forget things with the Grape Nehi. Being numb from your problems is the nicest thing in the world right now._

_And pardon my language please, Radar. I keep forgetting that you hate it and all things like that. It's just who we are, I guess._

_Well anyhow…it took a while, but we got Calvin to join us for more drinking. Sitting down next to Dean at the end (laughing because Dean was about to fall off of his stool), we caught up on old times. He finally heard about Trapper going home and about Colonel Blake…and then we had a final toast, to all who we loved and lost and those who went home safely. By then, about half of the group was royally drunk and needing sleep, so we had to go back to the hotel._

_Around one in the morning (oh-one hundred hours, in your case), Hawkeye, Calvin and I dragged Dean and Greg back to the hotel, where, luckily, our latest find was going to stay as well, so it saved a walk. He was a floor above us all, so settled with me and Hawkeye as soon as we put the Majors to bed, sounding sleeping when we left there, clothes on, drool dribbling down their chins and all._

_The three of us sat on the bed in total silence after settling down in our room. After about three hours of fun and games at the bar turned into this meeting total silence, as if we had nothing more to say to each other, nothing more to tell after saying so much. In the meantime, I played with the ring on my finger. Calvin took his guitar out of his case, strumming it aimlessly (he brought it with him to the hotel room, I guess). And Hawkeye, with a small nightcap in his hands, downed a final drink (I hoped) before lying back down on the bed._

_Then, I had an idea to break the silence…_

_"Hey, Calvin, I think I've got something you can play around with," I said all of a sudden, going to my luggage. I pulled out two pages, full of verses: perfect verses without any mistakes and cross-outs._

_The verses were the ones I showed you, Radar, except with an extra verse at the top. I had thought it up hours before, before we went to the bar, and it excited me when I copied it to new pages and put it away. It was also strange, as well. It gave me a sense of foreboding, as if it would be finished when I was sad or something. It's kinda you like knowing when something is going to happen before it happens. It's another feeling._

_Giving the papers to Calvin caught Hawkeye's attention. Laughing, he asked me (slurring some of his words), "Is that the poem you wrote?"_

_"It looks incomplete," Calvin mentioned quietly, reading it over quickly as I handed it over to him and gave Hawkeye an evil stare. "Hey, Jeanie, wow, really? I never knew you wrote stuff like this."_

_I quickly turned my evil look to a face beaming with pride, looking from Hawkeye to Calvin in two seconds. "You really think so, Calvin?"_

_Calvin looked over the two pages and handed it to Hawkeye, who read it over again (if he could read it, after all of the drinking we did). He then said, "Yeah, Jeanie, because this only proves to me that somebody like you can write something. You did a swell job, Ms. Morrison."_

_Hawkeye passed the papers back to the guitarist. "Set it music, Cal."_

_"I was thinking of it, Hawk." Calvin smiled and strummed out a strange set of notes before singing what I wrote._

Through early morning fog I see  
Visions of the things to be  
The pains that are withheld for me  
I realize and I can see…

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

I try to find a way to make  
All our little joys relate  
Without that ever-present hate  
But now I know that it's too late

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The game of life is hard to play  
I'm gonna lose it anyway  
The losing card I'll someday lay  
So this is all I have to say.

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The only way to win is cheat  
And lay it down before I'm beat  
And to another give my seat  
For that's the only painless feat

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

The sword of time will pierce our skins  
It doesn't hurt when it begins  
But as it works its way on in  
The pain grows stronger, watch it grin

Suicide is painless  
It brings on many changes  
And I can take or leave it  
If I please

_"I think it needs work," I commented as Calvin finished what had had, quite embarrassed about the poem. "It needs something, like a final verse or something, and I can't think it up. It's meant to be in there somewhere…"_

_"I can drink to that," Hawkeye said behind me, pouring himself another drink._

_"I also think you've had enough," I replied tartly, turning around and taking the glass from him successfully. Then, I drank it down myself, feeling the hot burn bubble down my throat. But it felt so much better, making me think clearer. It wasn't my favorite, but it was good, whatever it was._

_"You're all right," Calvin added, scratching his head, puzzled. "It needs something more, Jeanie. Like I said, it's incomplete. And I can't really do anythin' with it until it's done."_

_As Hawkeye finally dropped to his side of the bed and fell asleep, finally sleeping off his drinking (and giggling in his sleep at the same time), I stood before the Captain. "I know what you mean, Calvin. There's something missing at the end…and I can't think it out. Maybe I should go to bed and think it out. There's something bound to be there."_

_I knew it wasn't going to happen, Radar, but it made the Captain nod. "Yessire, Jeanie, it might help a little. I should hit the sack, too. Have things to do in the morning. Tell Dean, Greg and Hawkeye good night and all. And you, Sweetie, you have a good night too. Thanks for showing me this. It's been an honor singing it."_

_Giving me back my poem, Calvin kissed me on the forehead, getting up to leave us both in our drunken sleep. He left with his guitar back in the case, leaving me feeling emptier inside than ever before. It made me think of before, Radar. It'll never be the same again, but I'm sure that things, especially with Colonel Potter, will be ok._

_That's pretty much it, kiddo. In two days, we'll all see you (and you'll know about the news I sent to Colonel Potter a day before we get there). I miss you very much, even though it's been a week, and actually look forward to seeing you soon._

_Yours, Jeanie_

_P.S. I heard about your skunk and I'm sorry about it. I know you haven't buried it yet. So, when we get back, time permitting, Hawkeye, B.J. and I will help you bury it. And I know the Captains will help with the work. I know how much he meant to you…and we'll all willing to help you through it._


	24. Warming Up

_April 20, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dear Mom,_

_I have been back from Tokyo for a few days now and it has been quiet. For a whole week, I have been attending conferences, many of them (triage management and whatnot), so I have not been able to write to you about the news I received only yesterday in the mail from you._

_You have had too many loses, Mother Dearest, and I am truly sorry for this one. Your twin brother, my Uncle Nathan, was a good man and served God, his family and his country well. I will pray for his soul, as well as for you and Aunt Mary, in this great loss._

_His and Aunt Mary's marriage union may not have been blessed with children, but God knows that he was a good man and that he lived a good life. May your grief subside, as mine is, so that we also keep you. We cannot afford another loss in this family, no matter what curses had been put upon us._

_I have had little news for you otherwise, Mom. I am still working here in Korea and no end is in sight and I don't have orders to go home yet. I know that little in the way war of the war comes to Bloomington, save for Henry Blake's sad passing, so I'll tell you some of the little news I have from here at the 4077th and from our new Commanding Officer, Colonel Potter. Free of all cigarettes, alcohol and sex, I can clearly see what has been going on around me and am aware of everything here in Korea._

_Truce talks have been going on since last November and are still continuing in Panmunjom. There hasn't been anything coming out of it yet, but more troops coming in despite the talks for peace. Other than the United States, many countries from the United Nations are in this war: Canada, Belgium, Australia, Greece, Columbia, Ethiopia, Denmark, the Netherlands, Italy, Norway, South Africa, Turkey, Sweden, Thailand, the United Kingdom, France, India, New Zealand, Luxembourg and the Philippines. And, of course, we have the Republic of Korea, also known as South Korea._

_There have been little battles here, within this month actually. This year in general, there have been small battles, as, since last year, the 38h Parallel had been established and the peace talks hopeful. But, the wounded keep coming. And, with General McArthur gone from the Front Lines for over a year now (I know you miss him being there and thought that he was great), things have almost gone downhill for the Allies Forces here, but we are all hopeful and have faith. We all have faith that this war will be over soon and that Dean and I can come home to you and retire from the Army permanently, as you wished it to be._

_Dean is still here at the 4077th with his unit, guarding us with his men running amok. He and I were together in Tokyo, so he kept me out of trouble for the whole time that we were there. He also sends his greetings and filial love to you, our mother. He has been doing well also and stays away from the same things I have. You cannot worry about Dean, Mom. He's always been the most faithful son and will always be that way._

_I must go now, Mom. I have Post-Op duty in a few minutes. I will write soon, to tell you more about what is going on around here._

_Love, your daughter, Jeanette Karen_


	25. Ups and Downs

_April 23, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Oh, my Lorraine,_

_Things have been slow here. There are five wounded men and a North Korean Prisoner of War in this Post-Op right now, so it's very quiet. It's also about four in the morning right now and all is quiet on the Front Lines right now. Fighting has been down to a lull and we are all happy about it…so happy, in fact, that the Swampmen – Frank included – have gotten bored and have been whipping out prank after prank to get the mood merry after such sadness out of me. It's actually amusing to see Frank get into such a frenzy over something as trivial as a joke on someone, especially after Margaret's engagement announcement, so Colonel Potter considered the ordeal done with._

_I try to stay out of the Swamp. Even though I sleep in there and have left my belongings in there, I always try to keep away from the chaos that is the Swamp. Once (and mind you, Lorraine, this was yesterday), I came into the tent, back from my shift and wanting to sleep, when I walked into a water balloon fight (well, it was surgical gloves filled with water) between Frank on one side and B.J. and Hawkeye on the other!_

_Needless to say, I got very wet, as did my things, and have resolved to stay away from there as much as I humanly could, unless I have no other place to go to. Hawkeye, though, has been trying to coax me back in…_

_Good luck and news also follow me around, Lorraine, although I do have some sad news to pass on a little later. Other than giving my mother a strange letter, telling her about the war (which I know she told you about, most likely), things here have actually been pretty good. I have not told Mom about this yet, because I know that she is bound to kneel over in more grief (or have a heart attack, knowing her age), but I am engaged to Hawkeye! It was strange at first, because he didn't quite ask me outright and just gave me his mother's wedding ring, but soon enough, he proposed to me under a cherry blossom in a park in Tokyo._

_It was kind of romantic, to say the least, but heartfelt, nonetheless. And I accepted it, knowing that we will get married when the war is over and we are able to go home to Crabapple Cove._

_A few days later, Dean, Hawkeye and I arrived back at the 4077th, where we learned of a lull in the fighting. Already, Dean's men were celebrating in the Officers' Club (some were even down at Rosie's Bar), dancing and cheering as a wounded man of theirs played the piano. Radar was reading a comic book on his cot, his teddy bear hidden for the moment. Colonel Potter was taking his horse, Sophie, around for a ride for a little while. Margaret was secretly dying her hair (Hawkeye was right about that one!), giving it the usual treatment: a hundred strokes a day. Klinger was at K.P. with Igor, peeling potatoes for the night's dinner course. Father Mulcahy was off at the orphanage, which has moved closer to the 4077th (not to mention, his sister the Sister has started working there with Sister Theresa). And the remaining Swampmen left behind in Korea – Frank and B.J. – were reading the Holy Bible (Frank) and darning socks (B.J.) respectively._

_All and all, it was a normal day at the 4077th. I wasn't on duty until the next day, so I was all set. Hawkeye, on the other hand, was pissed to find out that he had Post-Op duty with Nurse Johnson that evening, so needed to get some sleep as soon as he could. And he knew that it wasn't coming anytime soon._

_"Hi, honey, I'm home," Hawkeye aimlessly yelled as he and I entered the Swamp, throwing our bags here and there (Dean already went to his quarters, camping out near Rosie's with his men, as he normally does). Even I was too tired to care, tossing my bags in Frank's direction._

_Apparently, I had knocked the Holy Bible out of Frank's hands, his semi-bald head (still recovering from the last assault on it) covered with my dirty clothes which popped out when the latch of the suitcase came undone. Hawkeye's things also scattered when he threw them in the space in-between his and B.J.'s space._

_"Will you ever learn, Captain?" Frank screeched at me as soon as I walked over to my cot for a well-deserved rest. "You degenerate, immortal animal, you made me lose my place in the Holy Bible!"_

_"Like I care right now, Frank," I replied as Hawkeye flopped on his own cot and fell straight to sleep, so it seemed. "We all know what happens in the end. So, why keep reading it? We all know that you don't follow it anyhow."_

_"He can always watch the movie," B.J. suggested as he looked up from his socks. "The ending is the same."_

_"You keep your opinions to yourself!" Frank said to the surgeon as he took the clothes off of his head and threw my things back on my side of the tent. To me, he said (my clothes littered the floors on my side of the Swamp), "Listen here, Captain. We get our strength, our moral standing from this one book that helps us through the trials and hardest times of our lives and –"_

_"Ahh, can it, Frank!" Hawkeye interrupted in a moan. "I don't think she wants to hear the same things her mother tells her."_

_"At least I know one person will keep her in line now," I said. "My Uncle Nathan, her twin brother, usually keeps tabs on my mother and always makes sure that she's isn't going too crazy and trying to kill herself by the noose or something stupid. I'm only glad he was the only one, like me, who didn't take this crap…no offense to Father Mulcahy."_

_"You say you're sorry to the camp priest, but not to me, your superior officer?" Frank seemed super offended I dared to apologize to the one person who has helped to keep me sane in this dump…the one person who has helped to keep me and my baby safe by any means possible._

_"In case you haven't noticed, Major, Father Mulcahy is the most underappreciated person in this camp and, right about now, I would thank him for everything he's done for me." I didn't even look up at Frank because I was so irritated with him for it. "Compared to you, the man is an utter saint, concerning everything he's also done around the camp and outside of it. Come on, Frank, you can't beat that."_

_"You can't even _act_ like a saint, Frank," B.J. added in._

_"Would he even make the list Saint Peter has?" Hawkeye asked._

_"What list is this? I never heard of any lists in heaven." I was confused, finally getting up and looking to the two goofy Swampmen for the answers to all of Christianity's insanities and mysteries._

_"Who was naughty and who was nice, of course," Hawkeye answered._

_"It's the same list that Santa Claus has," B.J. added as he put aside his socks._

_"As well as the Easter Bunny," Hawkeye chimed in behind B.J._

_"As well as…wait a second here!" Frank was about to add something silly behind the jokers, but stopped quickly. "You two don't know anything about God or the Bible or anything! You….you animals have no values to speak of, no morals to uphold, _nothing_ that makes you men! All you do is drink and fool around and act unmilitary."_

_"I resent that fact, knowing that it's untrue," B.J. replied. "Hawk, Jeanie, want a drink?"_

_I stuffed my knuckles into my mouth, to stifle my giggling, but Frank heard it as he stood up to leave, saying, "Captain, you're a disgrace to this Man's Army and to the uniform in which you have worn for over ten years."_

_"Amen to that," I said to conclude the arguing, not caring what Frank commented on anymore. "I think I want a drink after all."_

_Nothing much happened after that, Lorraine, except for the letter I got the next day about my uncle's death and the wonderful news from Colonel Potter. And, well, I had thought that my mother was going to keep in line for a while and try not to kill herself this time. But, with the news from home, I don't think so. I think she will totally kneel over in grief soon enough._

_"Mail call!" Radar said that awful day, passing out packages and white envelopes to me, B.J. and Hawkeye and throwing a few letters on Frank's cot before he left for the next tent._

_While I had one letter, that one letter, the other two had packages and letters. B.J. received more desserts from Peg as well as letters and pictures while Hawkeye received a mysterious package (hidden from me) and a letter or two from his Dad._

_I opened my letter with my longest nail and read the dancing words on the page, more worried words from my mother. As I scanned down to the first lines – wet with tears, I could tell – I read that my Uncle Nathan, the one I mentioned only days before, had passed away suddenly. He was cleaning out the gutters of his house, wanting to get ready for spring, and was waiting for my Aunt Mary to bring him lunch outside when a neighborhood kid's ball hit the bottom of his ladder, knocking him off as he worked. His head hit the hard concrete borders that he made for my aunt, to make her flower beds prettier and more organized. He was dead in an instant, his head smashed in._

_And my aunt, my poor aunt, found him that way, the first person to find him and scream._

_"Oh, my God," I muttered, a tear sliding down my face. I knew what his death meant. Two insanely religious women were now on the loose without a leash: my mother, wanting to kill herself and the other, my aunt, wanting to hide herself from the outside world._

_Either way, both were doomed to walk emptier lives._

_"What is it? News from home?" B.J. smiled widely as he took out a few pictures of his growing daughter, sighing as he looked at the child nearly a year old._

_"My uncle died," I replied quietly. "He was my mother's twin. Twins run on my mother's side. There was always a set in each generation. And it was always girl and boy, the latter dying sometime in their lives. It was curse, as family rumors say."_

_I didn't like mentioning it, always liking to forget about it, but it seemed like a good time to explain it all. I might as well, seeing as how it might hit me and Dean sometime in this war…_

_Hawkeye came over to my, pulling me up from my cot, and held me, the letter squished in my hands. "I'm so sorry, Love. Is there anything I can do?"_

_"Save for making my mother saner, nothing," I replied, my speech muffled as my mouth continued to be pressed into his chest._

_"Jeanie, I'm so sorry to hear about that," B.J. added behind Hawkeye. "You know, we'll do anything to help, if you need it."_

_Remembering the funeral and burial service of Radar's skunk, I nearly laughed insanely, but declined the temptation, saying, "Thanks, you two…I appreciate it. I really do. I'm just worried. I'm actually worried about my mother and aunt."_

_Another tear went down my face as Hawkeye held me close. It wasn't just for my uncle, but also for the ruin of my family. I was worried that all of them were going crazy before my eyes and that there was nothing I could do about it, save for making sure that Dean didn't fall into the curse's clutches…if I could make myself stop believing in something silly such as that. But I was paranoid enough. I needed my brother. He could not die! He CAN'T die now!_

_"So, what's this about a curse?" B.J. asked as Hawkeye and I sat down on my cot together, making it creak with the weight._

_"It's just what I said it is," I started to explain. "Every generation in my family has twins, a boy and girl. My mother thought that she was immune to it, but here we are, I guess. I don't remember how many brothers I have from her or even my father, but I remember that she was surprised to see me after Dean was born. But anyhow, family rumors go back on my mother's side, back to when her great-great-great grandparents, however many times, were in France. Something came out of it when they took off, like a curse or something from the local witch, and, ever since then, twins came into every generation. The girls always had children, having twins eventually. The boys could marry and try all they wanted, but they never had children, like my uncle and aunt. We thought and joked around that he was immune to such silly superstition…but I guess not."_

_"What does Colonel Insanity think about all of this?" Hawkeye asked, referring to my father. When B.J. raised an eyebrow about the comment, Hawkeye explained quickly about who he was talking about, the other Captain understanding instantly._

_"The Morrison side of the family just drinks and forgets about things." I shrugged my shoulders. "They all came from Ireland. Does it explain something?"_

_"Other than you and your brother's drinking habits, nothing more," B.J. replied, trying to smile at me when I looked (and felt) so depressed and pitiful._

_"Hey, so, what new pictures do you have from Peg?" I then asked somewhat cheerfully, trying to change the topic all of a sudden._

_"What new pictures do you have from Trapper John?" B.J. asked me in return, also trying to help me forget that awful letter._

_"Nothing new really, just the odds and ends," I explained, not bothering to get out my pictures of Shannon. "Her hair is getting black, so I'm told, and teeth are popping out and everything. I'm missing too much. Pictures don't really show me much."_

_"I know the feeling, Jeanie. Boy, do I know the feeling."_

_B.J. was quiet afterward, setting the tone for the tent: silence. Even Hawkeye was silenced, not knowing what else to say to me until Colonel Potter knocked on the Swamp's door only a few minutes later._

_"Knock, knock, Captains," he said to us, jovial as hell as he entered. Seeing our long faces, his mood changed quickly. "News from home, I take it?" he then asked, his voice low._

_"Just a death in the family, nothing more," I replied, trying to hide the wretchedness in my voice, but failing miserably._

_"I'm so sorry, Captain," Colonel Potter said quietly, coming over to me and squeezing in-between me and Hawkeye, rubbing my shoulders and back, like a father would do. "If there's anything I can do, just holler. My tent is down the road. I think you can find it right." He paused. "I think this news will cheer you up though."_

_"What?" I seemed a little confused, like good news seemed out of place when I had such bad from home…and everywhere else, for that matter. It just didn't seem so right._

_"Jeanie, did you hear the news?" Dean came rushing in the Swamp all of a sudden, slamming open and close the door of the Swamp. Tears seemed to have been on his face earlier. "I heard from Mom today about –"_

_"I heard, I heard," I interrupted, motioning for him to take a seat someplace where there was room. "I got a letter today too."_

_Dean could not and I understood. More tears coming down his face, my brother abruptly left the tent, running quickly in the opposite direction, towards Rosie's Bar, where he was camped out._

_Hawkeye sighed with worry as I added, "I'll check on him later. He'll probably be as drunk as I'll be later on. But go on, Colonel. What good news do you have for me?"_

_"You've been promoted," Colonel Potter said with a little cheer, still rubbing my back. "No, you're not a Major yet. But you're pretty close! No, you've been promoted to Assistant Head Nurse of the 4077th, which merits a new tent of your very own."_

_"Does Margaret know of this already, Colonel?" B.J. asked for me when I could not say anything of my own after another minute of silence._

_"Yes, she does, and she's very excited to get some training into you, Captain." Colonel Potter stopped his ministrations to me and stood up. "I'm sorry this isn't the greatest time to tell you this, Captain, but I hope things are better at home. I hope this news helps a little."_

_I smiled. "Thanks, Colonel. I'll talk to Margaret when I can."_

_As Colonel Potter left (a sympathetic face always looking back at me), I got up from my place on the cot, Hawkeye, hanging onto me by the hands (out of sympathy or pity, I could not tell). As I let him go, trying to get on my own two feet, I played with the new ring on my finger, the thin vines and small flowers on it choking my feelings of despair and sadness._

_"Where do you think you're going?" Hawkeye asked me, clearly worried again as I looked around and about me, dazed and confused myself._

_"I need to find Dean," I replied quickly, running out the door suddenly._

_And it was all I needed to say. The only thing I needed, in the meantime, was to find my brother to grieve with him together, as if the two of us could add it all up and then subtract it by being together, to cry it out together. Maybe it could…but I can't tell now. I still can't. It's all still there…the grief and pain. It's still there. And I think it always will be there._

_Before I go, as I close this letter, I toast my Uncle Nathan, wherever he may be in the afterlife, and take a good walk to Rosie's Bar in the afternoon after my shift is done if Rosie doesn't get back to me first. Dean has been there since he got his letter, practically living there with his troops coming in and out to offer help, so I better make sure he doesn't drink himself out and gets sick. I need to get him back to his own camp, with his own men, and sober him up in case something happens in this camp. It's been too quiet, so it's bound to happen very soon if we're not careful enough._

_With love to you and the children, for it's all I can offer right now –_

_Your faithful daughter, still in Korea…Jeanie_


	26. Family and Camp Affairs

_May 1, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Lorraine,_

_Things have started to pick up here finally, but it's not too welcome right now. A battle rages on the Front Lines and more wounded are coming in, sometimes by the dozens at a time. I sit here in the Swamp for now, taking a break from everything (because we're in overhaul) but soon enough, more men will come through here. There's a lull right now: surgeons, nurses and all sleeping alike unless someone has a shift._

_I can't sleep really. I'm so tired that I'm too tired to sleep. I'm all wired up, still a little sick, and I can't think of sleep when more work has to be done._

_I'm also too worried. Mom has been writing nonstop to me, once giving me five letters in a day. I read them in chronological order, but none seem to make sense to me. She'll talk about Clarence and how he'll be home soon from shopping or from working in the yard or something. Or she'll be talking about moving to Ohio, when I know good and well that she hated the state…which is why she liked to stay in Illinois when we moved all the time. Oh, hell, one letter even discussed how Daddy hit her all the time, which was way back at the end of my memories, where my understanding of things was not clear until scrutinized by my adult mind._

_Actually, Mom would write of that last one to anybody way back when, as Grandmomma told me when I visited her in the Netherlands a handful of years back (where some of my half-brothers also live), before she died. We don't know if it's true or not, but even if it was…why would she keep bringing it up, especially now?_

_I think these two deaths have hit her hard, Lorraine. First, it was Clarence, the jackass that he was, who happened to be the "love of her life", the person who saved from the evil "Military Man" (my father) and married her, despite being divorced from him for only a month, and took on us, Mom's children (little good coming out of it, that asshole). And second was poor Uncle Nathan, her twin, the brother that helped her and stayed with her, despite everything that was going on._

_Trust me when I say this, Lorraine, but being a twin is like having another soul. Your sibling is like another part of you and you can't bear to lose them. It explains why I am so close to Dean, doesn't it?_

_Mom and Uncle Nathan, through their own moments of fun when the former was not religiously stiff, would have their fun like me and Dean. Hell, they even talked quite openly about the curse, which was how me and Dead learned about it (and joked, saying that we would break it together because we were stronger and cleverer than the last generation). We would spy in the sitting room at them as they sat in the kitchen, sipping tea and coffee and talking about all of the family affairs. With the rest of our family overseas in France and in the Netherlands, there was little news from them, as always. But, they had enough to talk about._

_I explained to you, in the last letter, about the curse when I was talking to Hawkeye and B.J. about it. Like I said, family rumors say that the male twin would not have children and die while the female has children and more twins. What I didn't tell Hawkeye and B.J. was that, if the male was born first, then he will die. If it's the female born first, the curse will be broken from the family line forever (some signs have pointed to me dying, Lorraine, but I ignore it and don't care otherwise). And since Dean and I know that he was born first (I can't forget it, for God's sake, he reminds me a lot!), we think that he's a clear target…especially in a war zone like this._

_Then again, so am I._

_I mean, Dean is pretty safe here guarding the unit, but when he and his men are called to the Front Lines, or to Munsan like Daddy, then I get nervous and worried._

_God, Lorraine, I shouldn't be worried about this "curse" because it doesn't exist and everything is a coincidence. But, God, I can't help it. I really can't. I'm paranoid about it all of a sudden, especially after the sudden death of Uncle Nathan. And, as far as I could remember, every male twin as been killed…except for Dean. Uncle Nathan had hit his head on hard concrete and his head was crushed in an instant. Great Uncle Henri, Grandmomma's older brother, was crushed by cattle when they broke through the fencing. The next uncle, the generation before, had been shot in the head by an escaped mental patient. The uncle before him was killed in a dual through strange circumstances that nobody can figure out._

_And so it goes. I don't know what happened to the next men, but all I know is that they are dead and by unusual reasons._

_And oh, God, it's raining again. I-Corp said that it was going to rain tonight…pouring rain, in fact, with strong winds and maybe some thunder and lightning (it's very nice living in a tent, you know…sarcasm is a wonderful thing, Lorraine). Jesus, it can't be thunderstorming NOW! We just got back a cold snap last week and spring seems to be in the air after the cold weather came. I mean, Hawkeye and I had a picnic the other day by the mine fields (as Dean watched us, yelling at me and then worrying silently when we didn't listen). B.J. was finally hanging out the laundry outside and not inside over the stove. Klinger stopped wearing stockings and tights and is barelegged and hairy once more. Margaret shed her heavy coat. Frank stopped complaining about how he's allergic to the cold._

_We can't have cold weather again. We've all tasted the bittersweet warmth…we can't have cold again!_

_God, I _am_ upset that we have this cold weather, Lorraine. Not to fear, though…there is always a reason for everything, as my mother would say about these things (and me cringing when I quote that insane woman). And, perhaps, the reason why we're getting the cold is so that we could play. Granted, we don't get much snow here (maybe flurries, nothing sticking), but sometimes, the cold can be a good thing. And I can explain this._

_Last week, when the temperatures were in the low twenties (a rare feat for this time of year, I must say), Hawkeye and I stood outside of the Swamp instead of inside, not cuddled together and trying to get a good fire out of the stove (even to get a warm cup of coffee!). Instead, we were outside in our regular Army uniforms…with no coats, scarves or anything else on. We both had on all Army issued pants, boots, summer socks, t-shirt and jacket and nothing more._

_Our point in all of this? To prove a point. War is hell, so why should we stand about and do nothing about it? By standing outside without proper clothes on, we could get very sick…and even go home, but I doubted it (Hawkeye did, as well). Our rules: no talking unless something was directed to us and no moving to get warm._

_People started to wonder and give us strange looks after a while, seeing us there, all silent and shivering from the cold. After all, all we were doing was standing there, watching people watch _us_, and not saying a single word to others or to each other unless spoken to._

_And, of course, the first person to notice us standing there was Frank. He was the first person to say something to us directly, too._

_"Immoral and sickening," Frank commented as he passed us by, going to his Post-Op shift and rubbing his arms, complaining about the cold. So, his comment was immediately disregarded, as it just ridiculed us and we could ignore it._

_Margaret was next, immediately behind Frank, and, for once, coming up with a different reaction than most…after the initial shock and disgust._

_"What are you two doing?" she asked, standing before us. "You two are crazy! It has to be fifteen degrees out here! What sort of example are the Chief Surgeon and Assistant Head Nurse giving to everybody?"_

_"War stinks, we want to go home," I replied simply, not facing Margaret. "Don't you agree?"_

_Margaret just stood there, baffled, and stood there, staring at us for a moment. Then, I heard from her, "Oh, what the hell?" She then took off her coat, scarf and mittens, throwing them in a pile next to the city signs next to the Swamp, and stood next to Hawkeye's other side, shivering._

_Next was B.J., about a minute later…quite literally._

_"Hey, folks, what's going on?" he asked us, also extremely baffled as he stood before us three, a couple of letters in his hands and having no idea what was going on, since he was not included in the plans we made._

_"Oh, just join us and shut up!" Margaret snapped, shivering harder._

_B.J. gave a quizzical look. "What's in it for me?" he inquired, wanting an answer but, at the same time, wanting to go on his way._

_"You want to go home, don't you?" Hawkeye asked in return, without looking at him._

_His partner-in-crime shrugged his shoulders and also threw his warmer clothing off, his letters in the same pile as Margaret's things. B.J. then stood there next to Margaret, shivering just like us, muttering about how crazy we all were and he in turn._

_Soon afterward, we had people all over the camp asking what was going on, understanding the point (war is hell and we need to go home) and joining us. And after a few good hours of standing in the cold (I had since lost feeling in my fingers and toes), almost the whole entire camp joined me and Hawkeye outside of the Swamp (save for Frank, Nurse Baker, Radar and Colonel Potter), crowding around the tent and the building next to it. And there was silence. Nobody said a word. All that was heard was the usual business of the camp (drivers came by and they all said that we were all nuts) and some coughing, sneezing and sniffling. Otherwise, everybody obeyed the order that nobody was to speak and was to stand there._

_Towards evening, it turned colder. Candles were lit (some left to grab some) and laughter was heard. Things became more relaxed and Hawkeye let down his guard, allowing the more immediate people to talk, like the others were. Then, Margaret, Father Mulcahy, B.J., Dean, Klinger, Hawkeye and I gathered together in a hurdled group, laughing about the day._

_Shaking and coughing, Father Mulcahy said, "Who came up with this idea? This was great!"_

_Hawkeye and I looked at each other. "I heard about it from another unit, one further down south," I confessed (no pun intended). "I heard that everybody went naked, to protest the war, and most were let go on a Section Eight because of it."_

_"Why didn't I think of this before?" Klinger mused, his skirt creeping up his legs, possibly thinking up another scheme similar to this._

_Sniffling, her nose all red, Margaret added, "This was a good idea, you two."_

_"Raised a little morale, I see," Dean commented, seeing the smiles, laughs and even jokes about the cold…and getting one around us._

_"And it's made my camp run amok," a voice behind us said. When we all turned around, there was Colonel Potter with Radar behind him, walking towards us. "Morrison, Pierce, break up this party. I want you two in my office…pronto."_

_"Yes, Sir," I replied (the Colonel sounded a little miffed, hence the humbled reply), Hawkeye shaking his head and about to say something after me before the gallant Commanding Officer interrupted him._

_"And put your coats on, you two," Colonel Potter added as he told Radar (who recited with him) to tell everybody to get back to work and to get their warmer clothes on._

_"That's an order," he even added._

_Afterward, the Colonel disappeared to God knows where, but he was sure to be in his office when we got there._

_"Well, I guess the cocktails were stopped before they truly started," Dean shrugged. "Thanks, you two, that was fun. It made my men smile and not jumping at shadows. Jeanie, I'll add this to the book of stuff we do. Hawkeye…wow, I can't begin to say how much this has made me forget things."_

_Hawkeye smiled and put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I hope we all forget and go home soon," he replied as Radar came by to us again, reminding us two that we had to be in Colonel Potter's office soon, P.D.Q._

_The visit to the Colonel's office was not as I expected. I thought that we were going to be punished severely for disturbing the goings-on of the camp, being unpatriotic and unmilitary and for being stupid and getting people to stop their work and stand to protest a war (seeing as how Frank complained about it, most likely). All and all, though, we could have had worse. But, it actually was a good visit to Colonel Potter._

_Hawkeye and I sat down when we saw the Colonel do the same behind his desk, waiting for us in his office until we entered. Then, he started by saying (and sighing with patience), "Don't you think you two have gotten into enough trouble in this war already?"_

_"I don't see any trouble here, Colonel," Hawkeye replied. "I just see troubled people."_

_"Uh-huh, I see." Colonel Potter then turned to me. "Captain, you've been one busy girl. You've been in the United States Army since you were eighteen years old. That's over ten years. And in those ten years, I see Nursing School, good old Washington D.C., West Germany and then Korea. In-between those, you've been engaged – twice, I might add – and then pregnant, drunk and disorderly and now protesting the war."_

_Then, Colonel Potter turned to Hawkeye. "Pierce, you've been drafted and have been, overall, a merry prankster. You hate the Army and you hate the war. You've been assigned to be Chief Surgeon of this unit before I came here and, already, you've shown a poor example to this camp, by many standards, even though you hold so high of a position. You're unmilitary, a joker and almost-always drinking."_

_Hawkeye and I exchanged looks, not expecting the book to be thrown at us. We thought we broke Colonel Potter of most of that Regular Army crap a while back – proving to be one of the guys while keeping us all clean – but here he was, reciting to us what we've been up to._

_"However," Colonel Potter continued eventually, "you two have also orchestrated the greatest morale booster in a long time. Standing outside in the cold without winter clothing? You have to be crazy enough to do it. But, you're all crazier than a bucking horse to do it. And I thank you both for the unusual day. It was quite amusing."_

_"Colonel, I thought –" I began, coughing as I did all of a sudden._

_The Colonel raised his hand to interrupt me. "Captain, it was a brave thing you do, a brave thing you and Hawkeye did to boost the camp's morale. I just hope my camp doesn't get sick from it, but I doubt it."_

_Hawkeye sneezed suddenly, twice in a row, his bare hands covered with thick mucus._

_"Except for you two, I think we'll have no casualties of this incident," our Commanding Officer corrected himself, smiling. "Now, you two sure look like you need a drink to warm you all up."_

_"I think –" Hawkeye started before a coughing spasm started._

_"You both should get to the Swamp then," Colonel Potter suggested, forgoing the alcohol. "You both looked flushed. Get some rest and stay warm. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning. My tent is just down the road."_

_"Thanks, Colonel," I replied, helping Hawkeye up as I started coughing. "We'll keep it in mind."_

_And so, here I am, Lorraine, still a bit sick, like I said. Hawkeye is a little better, at least (well, it's something!). And Frank, one of the only people who was not protesting with us, has caught our cold. It's been a few days since he's caught it and he's still not getting better. I guess this one will take a while to heal._

_But, the thrill of being out there, in the cold, hoping to go home, was too bittersweet…even for someone like me, who might not get out alive._

_With all of my love (and mucus), Jeanie_


	27. Memorial Day, 1952

_May 29, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Dear Trapper,_

_I know that I have not written in a while. As always, the reason is the wounded. A new offensive is out on the Front and we have been on the tail end of it (as always), patching up the kids and sending them back in. Of course, at the height of the battles – in a place called Agok – Dean and his unit are called to battle and off they went._

_I've heard no news from him or otherwise, other than what we heard from updated dispatches: nine tanks of the 245th Tank Battalion and 45th Infantry Division retaliated for the three raids on the division's sector. That's basically it._

_Well, other than the wounded that flew through here after our fun and games, nothing else can be said about it. We're doing our jobs and that's what we're here for._

_We did, however, have a nice Memorial Day B.B.Q., organized outside of the Swamp (since we could not cook inside of them, save for the coffee) by me, Hawkeye and B.J. (and approved of by Colonel Potter, of course). Remembering Moina Michael's poem about the red being worn for that day (after the "In Flanders Fields" poem, mind you), Hawkeye and I put her poem on the bottom in the announcement, posted on the bulletin board, asking for red to be worn, flowers if it can helped. Actually, believe it or not, we had red flowers everywhere that day, mostly on the tables and even on every counter space._

We cherish too, the Poppy Red,  
That grows on fields where valor led  
It seems to signal to the skies  
That blood of heroes never dies

_Hawkeye and I thought that it was appropriate to post it, especially considering where we were, what we were doing and what the wounded were symbolized as. B.J. thought it was literary genius to an extent (wonders as to whom my teachers were, little knowing that it was Lorraine Blake!). He also made sure it was ok with the C.O., so that Frank didn't go G.I. on us and complain to Colonel Potter. The three of us went carefully on this one!_

_Naturally, the party went on, regardless, and it was a blast. Even with the orphans, who set up their booths to help raise money (around the fields, away from the mines), the day was great. The wounded joined us if they could, on doctors' orders. Hell, even Frank got into the act and he and Hot Lips (friends now, I guess) put little American flags on the bedside of each wounded patient if they could not join us, thanking them for their service to the Army._

_Trapper, it was _the_ perfect day. The sun was shining, the temperature was right (not too hot) and the people were amazed by the day. Radar helped us get the most appropriate food for the occasion (he didn't want to see any of the meat processed and cooked by Hawkeye, B.J. and I, though) and there was enough food to burn for the B.B.Q. and red flowers enough to go around, if someone didn't have one._

_Sadly for Hawkeye, though, I lit his magazines of naked women playing volleyball and baseball before he knew it. As he cooked the hamburgers, he saw the remains of a naked woman with a bat – about to hit the whizzing whirl before her – and jumped back with fright, his spatula about to fly out of his own hands._

_"Jeanie, how could you?" he asked me in a panic as I brought over the cheese for the burgers as he requested a few minutes previously. "How could you destroy this jewel-encrusted paper fantasy that was an unknown named –?"_

_"I don't care, Darling," I replied cheerfully, finally extracting revenge on Hawkeye for keeping those dirty things around, especially we were in a relationship and are now engaged. "You are mine and I am yours and you are not a part of them, especially in something called a magazine. You're not going for pin-ups anymore, remember?"_

_Hawkeye nodded, still lamenting. "But, Jeanie, they were beautiful…"_

_"Yes, and what am I, Hawkeye?" I asked as I walked closer to him, motioning him with my hips to give me a kiss as I held the cheese high enough so that dirt didn't reach them._

_"My one and only," Hawkeye flirted, giving up on yelling at me about the magazines (he could always get more, Trapper), kissing me on the mouth before grabbing the plate full of real cheese for the REAL burger meat. And as he did, I heard my name being called from one of the outdoor tables and I went to the voice, grabbing a five cent cup of lemonade on my way over (the nickel was worth it, especially for my old Korean language teacher, Hee Young) and chugging it down as I walked towards the voice._

_"Captain, sit. I want to talk with you."_

_It was only Colonel Potter. He was alone in one of the corner tables, waiting for B.J., Hawkeye, Father Mulcahy and the rest of the gang to come sit, but he chose me out before they all came. He wanted to talk with me alone obviously._

_"Yes, Sir," I said nervously as I sat. "What's up, Sir?"_

_"Sherman, Captain…you can call me Sherman." The Colonel's unusually blue eyes shone on me, showing me that I would give my confidence to him freely. And he looked like he could keep secrets. He could keep whatever I told him to heart and not tell a soul._

_And I fell for it. I trusted him fully, so I thought it was a good idea to tell him anything he wanted…and I knew it would stay between us._

_"You can call me Jeanie then," I replied, quiet for a minute, knowing the gravity of him asking me to call him by his first name and not by rank. I thought and let him do the same to me, since I liked people being personal and not formal._

_"Ok, then, Jeanie…" The Colonel said my name as if he was tasting it, rolling it around in his mouth to see what it would be like to swallow it. "Have you heard anything from home? Is your mother and aunt dandy? How about your daughter?"_

_My heart seemed to have stopped when I heard mention of Shannon, but I didn't want to talk about her, so I started with my mother. "My mother is…holding her own, Sir, as is my poor Aunt Mary, although she's better than my mother."_

_My hands went into my pockets, feeling the letter from my Aunt Mary in there. Her words were desperate, a plea for help almost: pitiful and sad. Her wanting to go away from the world saddened me. I knew that I would never see her again – dead or alive – if she did._

_Sighing, I continued. "She seems to be losing a lot since the beginning of this year. First, my stepfather died, cheating again behind her back, of a sudden heart."_

_I didn't mention my curse to Clarence, a curse I placed on him in a short letter from long ago, knowing that he did suffer long and hard for it, so kept quiet on it. Who would look at me the same way again, especially someone like Colonel Potter, if I said something like that?_

_"Then, her older twin brother had died suddenly. I don't think she can take it…Sherman. She's been religiously suicidal for as far back as I could remember. Her favorite way to kill herself was hanging, but she's been known to take painkillers and alcohol to drown herself in sorrows, no pun intended. She once even tried drowning herself in a lake, tying her feet to a stone so she could stay on the bottom."_

_"And I know your father. He couldn't take much of it and left her, although he's known to be a sick old man, as well. He's also a bit of a jackass." Colonel Potter was quiet, too, thinking. "Your father has been as heartless as the day he was born. You can't be too harsh on him either, Jeanie. He tried to keep her in line."_

_"Obviously, it was not enough." I paused. "He called my mother a coward and a whore and said she was no better than a child trying to play the daredevil. And sometimes, I can see it. She wouldn't defend me when I needed it, was not there when I had to face my greatest fears and grief alone. She blamed me for everything."_

_Colonel Potter put his hand on mine when I dared to show them again: warm, welcoming and full of sympathy. "How did she take your daughter's arrival?" he asked._

_"Called her a bastard and handed her to Trapper McIntyre's family without a complaint," I said casually and with indifference, knowing that I was going to cry if I brooded over it more…even in a passing thought._

_"You don't mean that," the Colonel replied, knowing that the tone of my voice sounded totally different to my character._

_"I do in my mouth, but I don't in my heart." The tears finally came. "Shannon Cora Morrison, perhaps a Pierce: a little girl, eight months old, and she's called a little bastard. She doesn't deserve it. It's _my_ fault. _I_ should be blamed for something like this, dabbling in things I knew that I should have left behind me. She's my daughter. And, more and more, I think she's the daughter of the one I love and not the one I've hated. More and more, I look upon her in those black and white pictures and read the moving words I've been sent, and hear of how black her hair is, how her motions are too much like Hawkeye's. She toddles around already, giggling, once spilling ice on the floor so that people could slip and fall. Then, she tips her head back to giggle more. She's a sneaky one, my child. She's very sneaky."_

_The Colonel made a low whistle as he moved his hand off of mine, seeing the smile on my face when I mentioned Hawkeye and my suspicions. "Otherwise, she looks like you, I take it?"_

_"My grey eyes changed from blue, nose and small things like that," I chattered inanely, like it didn't matter to me. "I just don't know. I wouldn't know how to tell Hawkeye if I knew for certain. I wouldn't even know if I can tell him if it was another's child. Either way…would he care? Would he help me? He's made a commitment to me and he's kept it faithfully so far. Would he continue?"_

_Colonel Potter only looked at my ring and asked to see at it up close. Sniffling and wiping away the sudden tears as B.J. looked in my direction and smiled (he saw the red eyes and turned to Hawkeye to whisper in his ear), I took off the ring, the first time since the night proposal in Tokyo, and carefully handed it over to the Colonel. Almost dropping it (and catching it before the dirt, human and vehicle traffic and outdoor vermin ate it up), he studied the vines and tiny flowers, seeing the name on the ring._

_"His mother's, I take it," he only said, seeing the name and noting how old it was._

_"Her wedding ring," I confirmed in a whisper as Hawkeye looked over at me from the B.B.Q, giving me a face of concern before my face, in reply, told him that I was fine. "He asked his father to mail it in and gave it to me when we were in Tokyo."_

_"He must be serious then." The ring was handed back to me quickly and put back on before I could lose it._

_"I thought so, too." I was pretty quiet. "I burned all of his nudist magazines for the B.B.Q. and he was upset for a minute, but I think he's over it now."_

_The Colonel held onto my hand again, as if to give me comfort. "He knows. He'll come to understand you and what you want soon enough. It's a wise decision you've both made, to wait until after the war to marry, even though the engagement is still a little off. And I think Hawkeye will come to accept Shannon, no matter whose child she is. He'll help you, no matter what."_

_Tears glistened my eyes again. "Thank you…Sherman. We met, and I thought that he was just another womanizer…and I fell in love with him and I couldn't believe it and…good God, I still can't help myself. I don't think he could either. I thought it was a joke, but soon, I found out that it wasn't. He loves me and love…total and complete love…in Hawkeye Pierce is a very serious thing."_

_I then heard Hawkeye singing Percy Mayfield by his position by the B.B.Q., calling out for all of the people gathered together to come up and get their hamburgers, cheesy and/or otherwise. It made Colonel Potter move his hand from him and get up, asking, "Would you like one, Jeanie? They also have some soda pop over there, too."_

_"Extra cheese and the pop then," I said cheerfully, smiling again._

_"I wanted to ask you something else," the Colonel suddenly blurted out, leaning forward and talking softly before he went to move in for the food and beverage, poised to get on the run soon._

_"What?" My mouth was watering for real food and an actual beverage: Coca Cola, denied to me for so long. And alcohol doesn't count! I needed something nonalcoholic, because it seems like I drink it all the damned time._

_"Why name her 'Shannon Cora'?" Colonel Potter asked, shaking his head._

_"Because I'm not the only person who has read _The Last of the Mohicans_," I answered without missing a beat. "I – we – have a Hawkeye here. Why couldn't I have a Cora?"_

_I thought about the death of the character in the book, Trapper (ok, maybe I'm spoiling the story a little), but I thought about how beautiful my daughter could be and how tied she now is to my Love, my Hawkeye, in a small way. Maybe that was another reason why, but that's another thought for another day._

_Shaking his head again and smiling, the Colonel left, bringing in B.J. in his wake as soon as he left._

_"How goes it, stranger?" B.J. asked me, watching me stare at Hawkeye as he served up the burgers (with also a call for hot dogs for more hungry customers) and laughed, whistling as he worked._

_"Thinking about a lot of things, if you haven't noticed," I replied as I saw a Korean child, who was maybe my daughter's age or younger (I could not tell), be carried by Father Mulcahy's sister, Sister Angelica. Sniffling back another sob as I saw it, I added, "Maybe I think too much."_

_"Maybe you just need a Supply Room and a box of tissues with some pretzels and gin."_

_"Or a night out at the minefield," I giggled suddenly._

_"With an orchestra," B.J. added, with a grin only he could give me._

_"Burgers and soda pop, lady and gentleman," Colonel Potter called out as he brought my food and some company. "Dig in and enjoy!"_

_That was the highlight of the day, Trapper. Afterward, there were games, fudge, kisses, dances and even lemonade…everything that we miss and love were there and so were our spirits. I felt like I forgot, even for a little while, the war and even my life. I enjoyed being with the people who I've worked with and they in return. Even Radar had fun, jumping into the music when he could (the old trash bins and sticks are good for him, especially when he needs to outlet). We danced, sang, roasted real marshmallows on the camp fire and had a good old time. Even the wounded didn't come for the day and night. We were safe, gathering together, and having the time of our lives._

_"Attention, attention, all personnel: attention. All those in lunch can finish up their suicide notes and goodbyes later. We have wounded in the compound!"_

_Don't you just remember those announcements? I have to go now. Give my love, hugs and kisses to everybody, especially my daughter! Run, I must run!_

_Love, love, love, Jeanie_


	28. Pranks

_June 13, 1952  
The 4077th to the 43rd, Korea_

_Dear, dear, dear Dean,_

_I miss you already. You've been gone for almost three weeks now and I miss you with each passing day. I miss your wit and giggles, or how we ran to Rosie's to forget many things. I miss how you would make sure that this camp was safe or have your men play nurses or orderlies when we were swamped with the wounded. I miss everything about you. That month you stayed here was amazing and I hope to see you in one piece when you return here, whenever that may be. I know that Daddy likes to keep you busy._

_I've heard news from your end and there is news on this end, so I'll start with yours, that I heard in your last letter and from around. There might be news that you have not yet heard, so bear with me, Dean. I'm sorry if I got to the news first! I can't help it sometimes. Colonel Potter gets a lot from I-Corp._

_So, I've heard that Daddy has been promoted to General after almost thirty years of being a Colonel! I know that this promotion was not of his doing, and that he hates it so (I can tell), but I think it's about time. Maybe he'll get out of your hair? I wouldn't know. All I know is that he likes you around and that he hates my guts still (such a formal letter he sent me, the first one ever from him, so I am finding him stranger by the day). So, tell him I said congratulations on this bittersweet promotion and I hope that it makes me immune to enemy fire. I will write no letter to him unless he orders me to, so I'm sorry to make you the messenger. I hate it when it has to be so…and this is such a situation._

_Also on your end, but more to the south, where you're heading to after Munsan: the South Korean President, Syngman Rhee, has declared martial law in Pusan. This is bad because I've heard that there is a lot of unrest and that the locals have been fighting with each other – a civil war. The truce talks are dragging on, of course, and everybody is tired of the fighting and they want the war to end. I don't know where the fighting is, because it's not around the 4077th, so I have to check in with Colonel Potter. And, if it's near the unit, we're gonna have to have extra people on guard duty. Or, we can just have Klinger. He's scary enough in a dress!_

_Also in the news from your side to mine: Operation COUNTER, as it's called over here. The 45th Infantry Division launched a two-phased series of attacks, starting last week and possible ending at the end of the month. They were there to establish the eleven patrol bases in the Old Baldy area. The 2nd and 3rd Battalions and 180th Infantry Regiment are also fighting fiercely for Outpost Eerie on Hill 191, which is counterattacked by two Chinese battalions._

That_ is a direct report from Radar, so the wounded are going to come soon, as we've been anticipating. I have to write quickly because I have about an hour before they come from there and my shift is about to be doubled._

_There are reports of air raids in North Korea. General Clark, who heading it all after General MacArthur left (fired, most likely), is planning it out carefully, I can see, since the fighting is more aggressive than ever before. If this new operation and these raids continue, we're going to be overloaded and the camp crowded to the brim with wounded. Post-Op is already full and there are more beds there for the rest of the men. Next coming are the camp's beds. The Swamp is targeted for resting wounded men, which I won't mind. Hawkeye, B.J. are already arranged to be with Colonel Potter in his tent while I go to sleep with Margaret._

_You can tell it's frantic here, Dean. Things here are insane again and everyone's nerves have been on end. But, Hawkeye, B.J. and I have been keeping everything interesting so far. Our goal, because morale had dropped once more, was to prank everybody we know in the camp. We haven't done much since the protest in the cold, so Hawkeye and B.J. wanted to play a joke on everybody in the camp. And I was volunteered to help, lovingly persuaded to join the cause while in the Supply Room with Hawkeye._

_With each having certain knowledge of everybody in the camp, the three of us Captains set out to do our dirty deeds, for we knew that while one was being watched and on shift, the others were free to do what they wanted. So, while I was putting alive and dead fleas, cockroaches and flies into the makeup boxes of the nurses in my old quarters (and in the other nurses' tent, as well), B.J. and Hawkeye were up to no good. While I was employed to help them in any way possible, here's some of what we did, most of it done by Hawkeye and B.J., with a little help from me…if I could help myself._

_~Frank: for my "favorite" Major in the world, Hawkeye, B.J. and I took out his gun and molded one of our own (out of hardening cottage cheese from the Mess Tent) and put it in his gun belt. As Colonel Potter ordered some of the newly-trained South Korean guards to watch out for the camp (as well as learn some English from none other than Frank and Hawkeye, who reminded them that Frank Burns "eats worms"), we had a motley crew of good men walk around the camp, being pushed on by Frank, who would shoot bullets in the air to get them moving. So, when the cottage cheese hardened into what we wanted it to be (too much human heat would melt it, so we knew it was perfect), we stuffed it back into the gun belt and, low and behold, as Frank was threatening the South Korean guards again, he took out the "gun", having it crumble in his hands from the heat of his body._

_~Margaret: my other "favorite" Major, the one who has been training me for command of the nurses, has been getting some special treatment…in the form of Hawkeye. Since her lovely fiancé, Colonel Donald Penobscott, WAS here in the camp for another week (on break, I guess, from all that tiring paperwork on Tokyo), Hawkeye thought that we could get two for the price of one…by sabotaging their late-night dinner. Apparently, Penobscott had imported some REAL goodies from the States, just for him and Margaret, so the two Swampmen and I went inside Margaret's tent the night before the event and changed everything. We took out the food and replaced it with rubber replicas. Margaret's cot was not there (her place of rest transformed into a luxurious bed just for her and Penobscott, which was also another goody he brought with him) so we stuffed everything with the Cook's surprise (some light grey liquid and some leftover gold from the Talent Show, to leave our mark). The candles could not be lit (plastic replacements that lit up when you shook them right). And, when touched the right way, the tablecloth, table and even the tent will come down and apart. And, Dean, you can IMAGINE the anger from the Major and Colonel both!_

_~Father Mulcahy: this was a tough one, but I think B.J. had the right idea and it was all in good nature, without any harm. On Sunday last, the eighth day of this month, our very own B.J. (the one who usually hits up Sunday services) switched out the hymn books with script books containing the words and songs to the new musical _About Face_ (Peter de Rose and others writing it originally). So, with Sunday services underway with everybody coming in to follow along, we heard Father Mulcahy reciting from the musical (instead of the Bible) and we responding accordingly! Everybody was confused as hell – except for me, Hawkeye and B.J. – and we enacted it as is, Colonel Potter actually leading the way! It was interesting, to say the least, and even the good Padre was excited to have a change to the services. Towards the end, with us three Captains coming up to apologize for making a mockery of the Sunday Mass, Father Mulcahy forgave us and was even laughing, saying, "God enjoys a good laugh every now and then."_

_~Klinger: actually, this wasn't too hard and it needed a little work. And no, Dean, we didn't fool around with his dresses, bras and dolls. Instead, we fooled around with his gun. Oh, yes, Klinger still has guard duty, even without you and the 43rd around. The man would not use his gun, not even to shoot, so minutes before he went out on guard duty, Hawkeye and I snuck into his quarters and took his gun and replaced his bullets with glitter! After sneaking out laughing, the Corporal in dress and heels took it and headed to his almost-nightly duty, walking back and forth for a while that night. However, when Frank came out of the latrine and passed by Klinger, he was not able to say the password of the night ("Felix the Cat has pimples", long since changed) and was detained by Klinger, no matter who he was! After a verbal fight between the two (like alley cats at each other's throats), Klinger picked up his gun and it went off by itself – with glitter whizzing by everywhere! It was so funny! Needless to say, Frank got the last laugh: a mix of gun powder and residue and glitter in his face, creating a comical scene that only Frank can make._

_~Radar: now, this little bugger was not exempt, either. B.J. and I thought this one out and targeted the one thing that Radar loves the most: the teddy bear! Taking the teddy bear out of Radar's hands one night while he was sleeping, we hid the little thing in Post-Op, making Radar a little annoyed. When he found it, he put it back on his cot. B.J. took it away again and hid it in Margaret's tent (where Penobscott was sleeping off his drinks from Rosie's before he left for Tokyo, another week to go) until the Major took it back to the office. I took it next and hid it in Klinger's collection of dresses. And so it went, us two taking turns to hide the bear. After about a few days of doing it, Radar was so frustrated that he believed that his bear was actually walking himself places! Finally, B.J. and I admitted to playing with the teddy bear and promised not to play with it…for a while, at least._

_~Colonel Potter: holy crap, this was a toughie and we had to tread carefully. I let Hawkeye and B.J. handle this one, since I didn't feel like I had the honor of playing a prank on the great C.O. However, the Swampmen made me help, so I was stuck…sabotaging his laundry! The Colonel doesn't like the Korean laundrywomen putting in extra starch in his pants, so we bribed them to do it (my Korean had gotten better, so I was volunteered to help explain everything, since they knew little English). We also made sure that there were black targets painted on the ass end of his pants, so when we looked to the Colonel's behind, there were black circles on it! Needless to say, it lasted less than a day. The Colonel caught on quickly after he yelled at the laundrywomen again about the starch and demanded that they also wash the pants again. They explained it was us three Captains who told them to do it all, so we were called into Colonel Potter's office again._

"_Now, be seated, the three of you pranksters."_

_The Colonel didn't look too pleased as we sat down, trying hard not to snicker at the camp's happenings (all in thanks to us) adding "Now, this camp's morale has been down at another low, going down since your little protest." He paused. "For a few weeks now, I've been hearing of girly fo-fo glitter around my camp, tents and dates being sabotaged, random vermin in the nurses' makeup and even teddy bears walking by themselves."_

"_We held its hands and it just walked, Colonel," B.J. almost protested. "The teddy bear was determined to walk on its own."_

_Colonel Potter put up his hand. "I know, B.J. It's like the gun in Frank's belt turned into cottage cheese by itself. It just happened."_

"_What are you looking at me for?" Hawkeye asked as the Colonel looked at him suddenly, severely. "My hands are clean on this matter." He even showed his clean hands, recently rubbed down with pure alcohol, since his shift was that morning._

"_Just like Lady Macbeth, for sure," I added with a smile._

"_I wouldn't talk, Captain," Colonel Potter said to me sternly. "I know all of you have air-tight alibis when something happened. I also happen to know who was where when it all happened. When one or the other was someplace and blamed for the prank, the others would laugh in a corner. Now, boys and girl, want to tell me why the pranks all of a sudden, even on your C.O. here?"_

"_Why not?" B.J. asked. "Why not, Colonel? We're a little bored."_

"_We needed a little fun," I added in._

"_Well, Penobscott was about to press charges," Colonel Potter sighed. "He thought that you three were out to get him, thinking that Pierce here was trying to have an affair with Margaret."_

"_My hands are still clean, Colonel," Hawkeye reminded him. "Oh, Jeanie, what are you doing tonight?"_

"_Enough, enough, children." Colonel Potter motioned his hands up and down, as if to calm down a bunch of rowdy children…which is what we acted like, Dean, and we couldn't help ourselves. "You've caused enough commotion in this camp already. Now, we can deal with this civilly or I can feed you to the wolves out there, who are ready to rip you all apart."_

"_That's a pretty good deal to me," I commented quietly, noting the seriousness of the situation finally._

"_Glad you think so, Captain," Colonel Potter replied, looking angry for a second and then turning merry and then serious once more. "I'll make a deal with all three of you. If you cut the pranks down for a little while, since General Kent is coming here for an inspection in two weeks, then I'll make sure that the pack doesn't cut you down into the tiny pieces they want you to be. But, continue with the senseless pranks and not include me, then I'll let Penobscott press all of those dandy charges."_

"_That's harsh, Colonel," B.J. remarked._

"_I have to be, if I have my butt in the sling right now." Colonel Potter looked at all of us. "Do you all understand?"_

"_Yes, Sir," was the reply, mine the loudest of the three._

_Then, a second later, I asked, "Colonel, do you have anything up your sleeve?"_

_He smiled. Colonel Potter _smiled_ a grin I had not seen previously. It made me shudder, but not in a bad way. It was sort of in a funny way, as if I knew something was up and I couldn't put my finger on it just yet._

"_Ahh, Captain, I think I have a good sendoff for Penobscott there. You just wait!"_

"_What might it be?" Hawkeye asked. "Oh, come on, tell us, tell us, tell us!" He clapped his hands, his tone reminding me of the first day I really met him, when Hawkeye first talked to me, when Henry was around._

_God, even _that_ seems like ages ago…_

"_You'll see," were the last words before we were all dismissed, an evil look at us from Margaret when we came out of the office. But, before we knew it, Margaret was in with Colonel Potter, complaining about how childish we were and how it should be dealt with._

_However, Margaret didn't have the last word, despite the Colonel's reassurances that we were going to stop the pranks. A few hours later, towards evening, when Penobscott's jeep came to take him to Kimpo and then to Tokyo, Colonel Potter made sure he went off with a bang (coming back to wed Margaret, we can hope). The jeep's backend tied with Klinger's high heels (ones without a partner, of course), a whoopee cushion in the passenger's seat and an early afternoon splash with Margaret in her tent (somebody throwing cold water on them while they were in bed for a quickie) finished up Penobscott's visit to the 4077th…without charges being put on me, B.J. and Hawkeye, since Colonel Potter orchestrated the last pranks._

_Laughing now, but in a hurry to get to my shift before Margaret yells at me again –_

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	29. Her Name was Mi Cha

_June 24, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Oh! Lorraine,_

_Things have been a little difficult here. The wounded have been coming and coming and coming and never stopping. However, one woman who came to us tugged at my heart's strings and broke them into thin threads and then into nothing throughout all of this. It made my body bleed, especially at the very end of it. I think even this will make you cry…_

_Big surprises come in small packages, Lorraine Mother, and this one surprised me greatly, especially when this poor woman came to our camp: beaten, shot at, starved, burned, naked and her wrists knifed at because of self-mutilation (and I could tell because I used to do it myself). She survived a major bombing raid in her village and came to our unit as such: wounded, like her bloody American brothers._

"_Since when do Korean women come in here offering themselves to me?" Hawkeye commented as he operated on her body, the nakedness obviously shown as she was ushered it (uttering in Korean about her "shame" and the family she left behind as she ran into some fire) and was quickly rendered unconscious as we put her under._

_I noted what she said and kept my mouth shut (I knew what she was talking about) as I handed Hawkeye the first instrument. Well, I think the only people who would have known about what she said were Father Mulcahy and Margaret and even then, their grasp of the Korean language is not as large, nor as extensive, as mine is. So, I kept my mouth quiet as we operated on her – noting the broken ribs, head wound, shot-up leg and bruises along her body – and put her on Post-Op to recover as Hawkeye finished up a couple of hours later._

_After hours of surgery (it's been nonstop lately), we all came out. It had been a day, at least, and warm sunshine filled the compound. As I walked out with Margaret, who was still chattering about the demands of nursing and how to run the nurses while she's away in Tokyo next week, I was blinded by it. I could not see and think quite clearly. However, in my mind's eye, I could _see_ the Korean woman, muttering about her "shame" and what she brought to her family before running out into the line of fire, when her village was assaulted by the North Koreans. She tried killing herself, but she was brought here before she could complete her suicidal deeds._

_Lorraine, I knew that the woman was a homosexual. She was a lesbian._

_I didn't see anything wrong with it. As Margaret reminded me to be firmer with the nurses, to be harder with them (me being a leader of a bunch of nurses who barely give me the time of day bores me, quite honestly), I thought about the poor woman as we talked, reaching the Swamp before parting from the Head Nurse with a headache the size of this country. However, the poor woman got me thinking…_

_I had never thought of a Korean woman who loved the same sex until I remembered reading about Korea. And, remembering my readings, to be so was to being shame to a family, I know, even though it was talked about in their literature and in court circles centuries before (but not amongst the common people, come to find out). And for her to come here and make a mark upon my life by "telling" me this…I didn't know. I wasn't sure what to think about it, even now._

_But, to keep it a secret was vital. She told it for a reason. And for me to keep it was somewhat of an honor…a grace that was bestowed upon me. I had to keep it well and talk about it carefully because if I mentioned it to the wrong person, it could mean the woman's death or an argument from Frank. And I didn't want to deal with Frank about another homosexual…_

_It took me a while, some days even (a few days, really), but I had to give myself the courage to visit her and see how she was doing, even though I knew that she was not doing well at all. She also had no name and could not communicate with anybody in the camp. Father Mulcahy tried to talk with her (his Korean had improved somewhat in a few days) and all she did was turn her head and say some mumbled words of fright. She refused to eat and drink. All she did was sit in her bed and stare out, seeing things that we could not, seeing images that replayed in her mind over and over again._

_I went to Colonel Potter after three days of listening to Hawkeye complaining about his patient (he pointed out that she might not even make it, so bad her condition was). He listened to me as I talked about what I heard and even mentioned how she was acting in Post-Op: malnutrition if she continues to refuse to eat, more loss of blood if she continues to claw at her bandages and a more demented mind if nobody could talk to her and make her turn her head to reality. I was truly worried and was even disturbed when some of the Korean villagers from next to the camp asked about her, requesting that we hand her over to "village justice" (loosely translated). So, I had to talk to the C.O. about it, mentioning only, so far, about her condition, what might happen next, the locals and what Father Mulcahy was doing to try to help._

"_There's nothing we can do, Captain." Colonel Potter shuffled his paperwork around and then looked back up at me as I finished explaining those details, almost protesting about what we could do about it. "If we can't get her to say a word, then we can't do anything with her but release her to the locals. And the Army doesn't like dealing with the locals, especially when it comes to their own justice."_

_Colonel Potter then mumbled something about the war and how much of a hell it all was, but then collected his composure again before saying what I kind of wanted to hear. "You can try to talk to the woman and see what she needs or where she needs to go when she's walking."_

"_I don't think she has anywhere to go, Colonel. Remember, her village was bombed. That's the problem." I crossed my arms as I sat in the chair in front of his desk stiffly. "She said something that made me stop and think. And I don't want to say anything really and as a nurse and a woman, I should keep quiet and keep it a secret. However, you finally knowing this might help her."_

_The Colonel leaned forward in his chair with interest, which made me hesitate. But, I had to tell him or I might not get the help I desperately want._

"_She's a homosexual, Sir," I explained, using as few words as possible, in case somebody (like Radar) was eavesdropping at the door and running out to tell the world without really understanding anything._

"_I see." Colonel Potter said no more._

"_I'll talk with her, Sir, and see what's going on. Then we can go from there?"_

_My last sentence was a question on purpose. I was hoping that Colonel Potter would be very compassionate and, hopefully, have this woman be sent elsewhere other than the people outside of the camp. That poor woman needed to get out of the country, perhaps. Oh, hell, even though homosexual people were frowned upon in the United States, at least she won't be killed for it outright and nobody needed to know. She could have kept to herself and people would not have known that she was Korean even…_

"_Yes, Captain, you can take charge of her." Colonel Potter finally looked at me. "I don't care who or what a man or woman loves, Captain, but don't let this spread. We know what can happen to her if the locals don't get to her first."_

_I knew that he was referring to Frank mostly, so I took it as it is. I knew Korean and nobody else would understand me and her. It was perfect, the answer I was looking for._

_I saluted the Colonel and left without much of a reply, almost giddy with my assignment. But I had to do it. I was the only one who had to._

_I ran right into Post-Op, where B.J. and Nurse Johnson had a shift together. Quickly telling B.J. about the situation – minus the part of her sexual orientation – he allowed me to talk to the woman about what was bothering her and if we could help her, in any way possible (and not give her to the villagers). But, I was warned by B.J. (Nurse Johnson also adding in some commentary) that the woman, with the damage that she has to her body, might not make it, so we better make her last hours as comfortable as possible and not make her angry or upset._

_The woman was coherent and awake when I sat next to her, smiling as I talked in Korean with ease. Pale and wane, she looked so close to death and yet…yet, there was some light and life in her and I had to make it last, as long as possible. I needed to know her._

"_Hello, how are you?" I made it simple. And I knew that she heard me because her head turned slowly._

"_What are you doing here? Are you here to judge me, like the rest of me?" She crossed her arms across her bandaged chest._

"_No, I'm not here to judge you. I know what's wrong, in a way. I want to make you comfortable, in any way I could. What's your name?" My Korean was becoming fast-paced and I talked quickly. "My name is Captain Morrison, or Nurse Morrison, if you want. But, you can call me Jeanette or Jeanie, if being formal is not comfortable."_

"_My name is Mi Cha."_

_The voice behind the woman suddenly turned from haughty and protective to small and childish. Her head turned down to face the floor, making me swear that the woman was really a girl: not even sixteen years old and I knew it. The girl was not even in her twenties yet._

_I gulped audibly. "Where do you come from, Mi Cha? Where is your family?"_

_Mi Cha shook her head, black wisps trailing down her back, initially confined by a white cap. "It does not matter now, where I am from and where my family is. My family is gone. They are killed. And so is my…my girl. My girl is gone. I ran from the bombs and I was hurt. But it was good. It's for the good of the family honor if I am dead. They are dead. It is good that I am, too."_

"_How could you speak that way?" My voice matched hers, except with much more bitterness than I wanted. "You have a whole life ahead of you. How could you say that your life should end because you love a woman? Because you bring shame to yourself and to your family?"_

"_How do you know?" she asked me. Those dark eyes, eyes I noticed for the first time, were shining and angry. "How do you know of love and honor and of family?"_

"_You're right. I don't know anything about it. My family is very…unstable. But it doesn't mean that I don't know anything, Mi Cha. My life is as equally harsh as yours. And I was younger than you when things happened to me, things that I dare not say now. You can live beyond this, just as I've had to do. You can stand up and be your own woman. You can be powerful and not be some tool for your family. You can live alone and work alone."_

"_In America, it might be possible. Here, is it not. We are women." Mi Cha turned her head again, and this time, it was away from me. "Leave me now and let me die. It's all I deserve."_

_I sighed, getting up and readying myself to leave and talk with B.J. about Mi Cha, but decided against it. I finally just said behind me, "As you wish. You can call me when you're ready for anything, even talking more."_

_B.J. stopped me on the way out, though, as I was leaving, brooding about Mi Cha. "Did she say anything?"_

"_No, not really," I replied, fighting back some tears. "She said nothing of concern other than her name and what happened to her and her family. That was it."_

"_She's not interested in living still, is she?" Father Mulcahy asked as he came up from behind B.J. "She spoke of suicide many times to me, but I could not understand her other words. I tried talking her out of it, but I think her mind is set on death."_

"_Mi Cha was her name," I just answered, walking around the doctor and priest to mourn the loss of a woman…a girl, really. "And her family and 'girl' are all dead now."_

_I think Father Mulcahy understood me because all I heard behind me was, "Oh, dear!"_

_I went back to the Swamp afterward, lying in my cot, not moving for anything or anybody. Time passed slowly, as it always did here, and soon, the quietness of my solitude – crickets and nightly walks from others in the camp – was soon interrupted by Hawkeye and B.J., who came in to play volleyball with surgical gloves and a laundry line. Towards midnight, after the two played that and some cards and chess a few times, Frank came in from his evening shift, smug and smiling. He seemed grateful about something, but we couldn't figure it out until someone said something. And that someone happened to be me._

_I sat up, saying the first words since leaving Post-Op. "What's the matter, Frank? Did Hot Lips actually start giving you that blow job you've always wanted?"_

"_Oh, go peddle with your fish, Captain," Frank replied smartly. "Because that Korean woman you were talking to earlier just died. The damage was too much. She died, sitting up and not talking, as always. Good, since we don't need any more Commie Reds in our midst!"_

"_She wasn't one, Frank." I stood up, B.J. and Hawkeye too shocked for words (and knowing that this wasn't their fight this time), letting me handle this on my own until I left or Frank was unconscious (either way, I was going to win). "She wasn't a Communist. She was a woman in love who thought that it was better to die from her wounds than to live and disgrace her family."_

"_It doesn't matter, she's all dead and buried now," Frank commented. "Colonel Potter ordered it before the locals got to her. We don't even have her name or a family that will claim her."_

_I walked over to Frank, my fists posed to punch him. "Her name, Frank…her name was Mi Cha, and she was a human being."_

_Frank backed up quickly, knowing what I wanted to do, and was panicking. "Captain…now, Captain, don't get angry here. I'm just your superior officer…"_

"_Then, move out of my way, Superior Officer!" I yelled as Frank and we backed out of the Swamp together and were outside. "Move out of my way before I decide that it's worth the years in the stockade because I punched you good and hard! Dammit, move it, Frank!"_

_He moved, all right. Frank moved and let me be, letting me storm out and about the camp in anger: anger at the war, anger at and for Mi Cha and anger about her family. I was so mad that I didn't know I was doing or where I was going until I reached the mine fields, kneeling before them in the tall grass, crying. And besides me were my constant companions: long, green blades of life, their watery tears crawling down their arms like mine was crawling down my face, cleansing me of guilt, shame and sadness._

_To all those who have died so far and have yet to meet their God – for Henry…_

_Love, kisses and hugs to the children…please excuse my sorry and quick end to this letter._

_Love, love, love, Jeanie_


	30. Bearing Crucibles

_June 30, 1952  
The 4077th to the 43rd, Korea_

_To my older brother, Dean –_

_I send my greetings and many condolences to your unit upon hearing the news (Colonel Potter and the rest of the gang send the same). I understand that your command has been taken away from you, from some man named Colonel Coner. Oh, we've had him here before, wounded like his men. He uses his men for many things, as you've already noticed. I also noticed that, if you keep arguing with him, you'd lose your position as second-in-command and either be transferred to a more dangerous unit or something worse._

_Be careful, older brother…words said to me and words I will pass on to you. I am worried about you now. Daddy isn't there to protect you anymore because he's been sent back to the States for a little while again. And this Colonel Coner will do anything to destroy his men, if he can. Three have died already and we couldn't do anything about it. We could report it all we want and chalk up everything to our lack of skills in the O.R., but we can't deny it: the man is a menace._

_Oh, Dean, I can't talk about losing you because of how much it tears at me inside. I'm not ready for it just yet. This curse can't get to you. This family curse can't be your undoing. So, please, be careful, for everybody's sake! Wear your helmet when you're supposed to, duck often and don't do anything that the North Korean and Chinese would do to you. I know you're a good solider for your country, but, damn, I would not have your position._

_Dean, oh, Dean…it's been crazy here, too. There's been fighting here, and it's not just B.J. and Hawkeye versus Frank here in the Swamp. I'm talking about the locals just outside of our camp. Remember how I mentioned that I heard that, since there is martial law in Pusan, there is civil unrest? That civil unrest has traveled up here to Uijongbu. Colonel Potter has ordered extra security, requesting your unit come back, but since Colonel Coner has other ideas, we're sitting ducks. Villagers have been fighting, family member against family member. We've been getting more locals for wounded than Allied wounded soldiers (and people clamoring to have them again when we're done!). And then, we have to send them back out, either to be sent back to us or killed._

_It's been said that over fifty-three _thousand_ (R.O.K., American and even U.N. soldiers) are also missing in action so far – alone! – because of the rioting and protests against the war (or is it still a police action?). Most of them are ending up in P.O.W. camps up in the north, so rumors blow around, saying that they are all being murdered by bloody hands that care not for their welfare. And these same people are sending their diplomats to Panmunjom for the peace talks._

_Does this not make sense to you, Dean? We're fighting and killing and so are they. We probably do the same, but when the P.O.W.'s come through here wounded, we treat them with compassion before letting them leave for the camps (with Frank moaning all the way and all of us ignoring him)._

_Artillery units all along the M.L.R. – the Front Lines, as you know – are concentrating their ammo on the hills they want to run over. Remember that MacArthur had the chance to go into China (already in North Korea), so people have said, before he was recalled home? Well, I guess we want to hit North Korea and kick the asses of them and the Chinese all again. How exciting for us in the rear, that have to pick up the garbage that they all leave behind - the wounded, who are the priority in our hearts and minds._

_Oh, and did I mention that I've been hearing that we want to get the Soviet Union, as well? We want to get rid of Communism fast, Dean, and it's not going fast enough. One thousand rounds explode every ten minutes. Assaults on the Front Lines cannot hold a whole company and one after another, everybody is wiped off and another comes in and so the cycle goes. You know this._

_So, why are you still fighting the "enemy" and why are we still patching them up?_

_I tell people everywhere, everyday (since I've been in this hellhole called the 4077th), that I grow older because of this war. I used to say it so casually, joking and drinking heavily to forget everything. But, I know now that it is truer than it was two years ago. I would forget any way that I could back then. Now, I wish I could find another way to forget. Dean, my hair is growing greyer, my once proud dark brunette head sporting grey hairs of old. My hands shake constantly, especially when we are in the O.R., dropping instruments as doctors yell for help and Margaret screeches about my inability to work. My arms feel so much emptier and long for something taken away from me almost a year ago. It's much worse than when Shannon was born, when I was knowing what a mother would feel when her own child is taken away from her too soon, much too soon._

_I'm old, Dean. I'm old and not even thirty years old._

_Everybody here knows, too…even those who have been here for a short time. B.J. has been for almost a year now and, already, his hair is receding back. Hawkeye's eyes are sometimes too bloodshot to care, his hair slowly turned the same colors as mine. Margaret is forever dying her hair and sometimes failing miserably. Colonel Potter is older-looking by the day (you can tell by looking into his eyes), but keeps his youth, in some way, by riding his horse, Sophie. Klinger seems like the little old hairy lady that needs help crossing the road (the outfits are perfect, too). Father Mulcahy is keeping his own together, despite his nerves sometimes (at Sundays, he sometimes stutters in fright, especially when something is going off). And poor Radar…Dean, the poor little guy is running amok all the time, working harder than all of us sometimes, and grows up so fast that I forget that he has a teddy bear on that cot of his._

_Things must go on, as always. I have to keep my cool better now than ever before, seeing as how Margaret left for Tokyo to see Penobscott. They're going to get married soon, even though they'd been engaged for two months. And as the next in line in the chain of command (female-wise), then I'm gonna have to keep everything together as I command a bunch of gossipmongers and busybodies that can barely stand my presence._

_I feel so sorry for Margaret, Dean. I never told her that she was up for some heartbreak. It's a feeling, but can I explain it to her? How should I do it, if I decide to do so? Or, should I let her go and do what she wants, without explaining anything?_

_It won't help Margaret, either way, I think. Maybe I should let her go her own way without saying anything. I mean, she's a grown woman and should learn on her own who is good for her or not. Then again, I'm as close to a friend that she'll ever have (in the female form). She's been nicer than ever before and has tried to be a friend to me, showing me her many faces: a woman who _wants_ to be in love, a woman in utter loneliness and a woman who believes in something other than herself._

_Dean, should I? Should I leave her alone and let her learn?_

_I'm so confused. I'm so confused and I don't know what to do anymore. I try to be a good nurse and mind my own business and keep out of trouble, but things seem to get in the way of it, more problems plaguing me other than Margaret and Donald Penobscott. My past likes to creep back on me like a snake in the jungles wrapping around each victim. And just to think, it doesn't even involve lovesick nurses, the Swamp, fighting Frank or even mooning over Hawkeye!_

_Just the other day, two days ago I should say, I walked into Rosie's and saw Major Greg Keller, who waved me over to join him. He pulled me up a chair at the counter and ordered me a drink. I walked over cautiously, and with reason. Something was wrong with that picture. Other than Greg not drinking well (or leaving them down well enough, as you well know), I don't see him at Rosie's usually. He's in Seoul with Colonel Flagg or out in the field someplace, arresting all those suspected Communists or informants to the enemy._

"_It's on me," Greg said as I sat down, sipping his beer._

_Besides the fact…it seemed like Greg got better with his drinking and now knows his limits, so I let him be and let him drink. I didn't tease him about Tokyo or anything._

"_What's the meaning of buying this woman a drink?" I asked with suspicion, sipping my glass (I didn't want to get drunk that day, but a little drink wouldn't hurt me, as I had planned already). Then, in a whisper: "Greg, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Seoul with Flagg, last I heard."_

"_You're being watched, Jeanie." The words seemed so normal, so natural, as if Greg was patting me on the back and not speaking to me, comforting me in some way. "Flagg has been watching you carefully since you left Tokyo."_

"_And he should know, as everybody else does, that I am a loyal American soldier and nurse and that I have nothing to do with the North Koreans and Chinese," I replied back carefully. "So, how is Colonel Flagg doing? Last I heard from Tokyo and then from Seoul, Flagg was on medical leave because he broke both of his legs, most of his ribs and smashed in his face from his fall from the hotel window."_

"_But it doesn't stop him from looking in on you from time to time," Greg rashly said, noting that I have my own ways to get information, no matter how classified it was (I was taught well in West Germany). "Ever since you had that conversation with that woman, Mi Cha, he's been watching you, Jeanie. She wasn't a Communist Red like Major Burns reported initially, but she was a homosexual, which was reported by anyone except for the locals. And you know that homosexuality is frowned upon by many people, even by Colonel Flagg. He thinks they're out to destroy the American way of life."_

"_And he doesn't need help keeping the American way of life going." I nodded, downing some of my drink. "I know, Greg, I know. I should have thought Frank would have reported on Mi Cha. I thought that the incident was over, but apparently, he went behind my back and reported anyway." I sighed. At least we know, for sure, that she's not a Communist and the 'enemy'."_

_I paused, thinking. "Why would I be watched, though? All I did was talk to her, asking her a name of some story. And she said what she wanted to do. She got her wish. She died. She died because her wounds were so severe. We couldn't make her live. We couldn't heal her completely. I think that she was ready to go mentally because of her loss."_

"_That's why," Greg answered quickly. "Flagg thinks the two of you might have conspired and he's worried. He's worried that you're out to kill him or make him look bad while siding with the Communists. Be careful, Jeanie. He's pretty pissed off about it."_

"_Just because I was being the nurse and tried to talk to her doesn't mean I'm going to plan with the 'enemy' I'm supposed to be up against." I rolled my eyes as I finished my drink and ordered another, receiving it instantly from Rosie herself (to hell with my plan of having one drink and not getting drunk). "Please, Greg, this is schoolyard fighting. If Flagg is not concerned, he can come and see for himself that I was going what I'm supposed to be doing…whatever that is."_

"_Confusing, isn't it, Jeanie?" Greg asked, laughing and slapping my knee drunkenly (Hawkeye would have decked him if he saw it, so thought it wise not to say anything to him when I got back and he asked about Rosie's). "Your loyalty, until the end of the war, will always be questioned, and maybe more so afterward. Soon enough, though, like Senator McCarthy is doing back home, your friends will be targeted and asked if they are Communists. Their careers, likes yours, could be ruined. They could be asked to stand on trial and asked if there are more like them out there"_

"_McCarthyism…not this shit again," I muttered, remembering its beginnings a couple of years before and knowing that I could not be targeted until now…perhaps._

"_You know that Flagg loves the Senator more than life itself and emulates him in every way." Greg finished his beer and tried getting up, but sat right back down, drunk enough and his tongue pretty loose. "He is in full power, Jeanie, so be careful of what you say, too. Your words can bite you in the ass if you don't watch it. Tell Hawkeye the same. He's being watched, too."_

"_Hawkeye is a loyal American, just as I am," I declared._

"_It's not what Flagg thinks and you know it." Greg was quiet for a minute. "I love you like a little sister, Jeanie, and I don't want to see you hurt. Falk wouldn't want it, either."_

"_Don't you _dare_ say his name," I hissed with anger and pain. I took a gulp of my drink to forget the name of my love, the flame, the falcon that helped to keep me alive in West Germany._

"_I can and I will," Greg almost yelled back. "I knew Falk, Jeanie. He would want you to do the same. He would want you to be safe and to lie, if necessary. He would want you to protect your interests, your loves even, and whoever else you hold close. He knew it. He saw it. Why do you think he argued with you before that last mission to topple the Commies in the Soviet Union? He wanted you to trust him more. He wanted you to let him go and to let him take care of himself. So, don't fool yourself, Jeanette, because that man loved you to life and would have kept you away from this hellhole called Korea if he could have helped it!"_

_I stood back, shocked, almost whimpering in a tiny voice. "Do you really think I didn't trust him? I trusted him with more than my life, Greg." I wanted to cry. "It's like we've been repeating this all over again, you know this, as I did. But now, we're in Korea and not in West Germany."_

_Greg had calmed down with my words. "Yes, of course, I know this, Jeanie." He rubbed his forehead, as if he had a headache. "I'm going. I need to get back to Seoul before things hit the fan. Flagg knows."_

"_Don't they always? God, don't they always, Greg?"_

_Paying for my drinks (and Greg's, for that matter), I helped Greg up and practically dragged him back his jeep, his driver waiting anxiously as he pointed out the man (it took a few times for me to figure out what he was pointing to, but I got it)._

"_Ma'am, what's with him?" the driver asked as I practically threw Greg into the passenger seat of the jeep (his dead weight almost killed me), his youthful face shining at me. He looked no older than eighteen years old, the first time away from home._

"_He's just a little drunk, Private," I replied carefully. "Just get him back to Seoul, as you're supposed to. And be careful. Get his helmet on before you two hit some fire on the way back and make sure –"_

_A shot from a sniper came from somewhere, getting all of us to hit the ground or/and cover our heads (I did both) or even run back into Rosie's Bar. The Private put his own helmet on quickly enough, heeding my warning, but did not worry about Greg, seeing as how he was slumped down in his seat enough that he could not be hit in the head. Indeed, Greg was such a lightweight, so oblivious to everything, that he even curled into a fetal position, ignoring the commotion around him, and went to sleep._

"_Stay here, Private, or head to the 4077th," I yelled over the noise that erupted. "We can go there together. Major Keller won't miss Seoul much."_

"_Come on, Jeanie, let's get out of here!" Hawkeye was behind me, coming up from the camp's direction. "Colonel Potter has been looking for you since this sniper came by. We can bring the company with us."_

_Hawkeye put on my helmet (he was wearing his), something I left down in the Swamp on purpose, hoping that no fights – soldier or civilian – would break out. I guess that I was wrong, but in a different way. I didn't think of enemy fire, silly me._

"_Captain…?" The Private started before we Captains jumped into the jeep and ordered him simultaneously to drive forward and to step on it and be careful._

"_We don't want to be the wounded ourselves," Hawkeye added in a hurry._

"_Like it hasn't already happened," I said as the jeep rolled into camp and another shot came out way, hitting the side of the jeep with little force, one that made it swerve a little._

"_Let's not make it a second time, then," Hawkeye replied, pushing my head down before we reached the camp._

_Oh, Dean, we got there safely and were in Post-Op, all four of us: Private Perkins (the driver), Greg, Hawkeye and I. We stayed there until a chopper came by (without any wounded) and shot the sniper from his place up near the mine fields, where he snuck in and used, taking advantage of the good view it has (not to mention, the places he could shoot from his position). Sadly, though, the man died from the gunfire before B.J. and Hawkeye could reach him._

_However, they wouldn't be able to save him, though. Orders stand that any sniper in the area was to be killed, even though we're a hospital and could patch him up and send him to the P.O.W. camp. And Frank has been using this order to his advantage, holding it over our heads as if he were the executioner and dangling the noose around our necks._

_Bittersweet memories fill me, Dean. Would you rejoice when this war is over?_

_Your sister forever, Jeanie_


	31. Departure and Arrival

_July 19, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Lorraine,_

_Things have changed drastically and I do mean it. Just when you think that things have been the same for the longest time and will never change, they do. And when they do change, you realize that the older times were so much fun, or too sweet, and that the newer things in your life need time to get used to._

_I know I am speaking strangely, Lorraine, but things have definitely changed here and I can't tell if it's for the better or for the worst. I guess that time will help me decide that. However, I can still say that this war really stinks still._

_So, Lorraine, let me briefly tell you what has happened this month so far…_

_You know that Margaret and Colonel Donald Penobscott were engaged for three months. They married last week, tied the knot nicely, and went to Tokyo for their honeymoon, despite everything I've done to prevent it, in some way._

_Now, remember I was asking you for advice? Remember I asked whether or not I should tell Margaret that I was feeling that her upcoming marriage was going to be a disaster? Well, I followed your advice because you could not give me a direct answer: to follow what my heart told me to do since the decision was a hard one to make for someone like me. So, I did and did what I thought was right. I told Margaret what I felt about Donald and it went…weirdly._

"_What do you mean, you feel that my marriage will be a failure? What are you talking about, Captain?"_

_Margaret and I were in her tent, actually chatting away about anything and everything. She initially called me into her tent to congratulate me on handling the nurses fairly and with grace while she was gone, but it turned into hours of talking to each other about nothing but things about home…the Army…and even our family. I then confessed to Margaret everything before discussing her marriage, believe it or not, and she was very sympathetic, asking me about Shannon. Then, she told me about her dysfunctional parents (divorced, with her father in Tokyo now and her mother in jail) and her sister, Kathy. Captain Katherine Houlihan is married for a year now, has an apartment with her sister's help (and Frank's, remember the loan?) and has a new baby boy already. It made Margaret jealous, I bet, and I told her so, adding in what I was feeling._

"_Don't you think you're also rushing into things?" I asked her as well (in lieu of answering her question), trying to reason with her. "Margaret, you've been engaged for three months now. You're madly in love and happy, it seems. But, shouldn't you take it a little slower? I mean, you two met in Tokyo and became engaged after barely getting to know each other. He visited you a few times and you already have a sexual likeness and attraction for each other. I mean, Margaret, shouldn't you ask around? Maybe he has something wrong with him, like in his records or something."_

"_You're babbling, Captain," Margaret replied blissfully, too ignorant of her Donald. "Donald has a perfect record. He's worked hard in the Army. He's has a strong body and is handsome, to boot. And he chose me above all women. Imagine, Captain: Donald could have had any woman here, but he chose me. And I love him, too. Oh, what other chance do I have? I could have Donald and be in love or have a loveless relationship with Frank Burns. I could be a wife or I could be the 'other woman', a mistress. Which one would you want to be?"_

"_A wife, I suppose," I replied quietly. "I wouldn't know, seeing as how I was the 'other woman' in someone's life, unwillingly, and hurt my mother in the process, although I was an unwilling participate."_

"_I want happiness, just like Kathy," Margaret went on, ignoring me. "I'm so happy, Captain."_

"_At this point, you can call me Jeanie," I muttered, bitterness in my voice at not being heeded._

"_Ok, then, Jeanie, what's gotten into you?" Margaret's expression turned from happy to irritated in two seconds flat. "You say you have the feeling that my marriage will not last. What makes you say that?"_

_I sighed, getting up and putting a reassuring hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Don't worry about it then, Margaret. Why don't you call Colonel Penobscott and get married here? I bet Father Mulcahy will gladly do the service for you and send you off with a bang. It'll be better. And then, you both can go to Tokyo for the honeymoon. Colonel Potter will help with that, for sure!"_

"_That's it, of course!" The Head Nurse smiled and it was actually genuine and beautiful, despite the shine in her dyed hair. "It's perfect, Jeanie. I'll get on it soon. Oh, let me call Donald! He has to come here and –"_

_On and on did Margaret chatter for a while before an announcement called for wounded. Soon, we were off to Pre-Op, treating the new batch of soldiers. But, in the back of my mind, I knew that I was right: I was going to see Margaret's heart break into pieces. And now, there was nothing I could do about it. She made her choice. She was going to marry Donald Penobscott. And we were going to be there when she fell from grace._

_So, last week, they married (with Frank pushing Margaret on), as planned, except for a few little twists and turns in the story. Well, it was a perfect wedding mostly. Klinger donated the dress for Margaret. Colonel Potter gave the bride away. Father Mulcahy married the couple. A few of the nurses (me included) stood there for Margaret as bridesmaids. Frank even stood in as the best man! And then, the wedding prank: B.J. and Hawkeye threw a bachelor party for Donald the night before (as we nurses threw a bachelorette party for Margaret) and then got him so drunk, making him think that he broke both of his legs, so he went to his wedding with a bit of a hangover and in a body cast. Then, shortly after (the next twist in this story), the wounded came, Donald Penobscott watching from afar, his new wife working in her wedding dress._

_It was touching. It really was deeply touching to see Margaret work on her wedding day like that, bravely putting on a face to help the wounded. She went into the O.R., all right, and came out hours later, heading to Tokyo with Donald, as promised, for a honeymoon that she would never forget (so we have figured). Hawkeye and B.J. thought so and voiced it, seeing that it would be hard to get rid of that cast, commenting that Margaret would tear it apart anyhow. And we all laughed, knowing that it would be true._

_However, there were undercurrents in the water and we didn't know about them until it was far too late._

_Frank, who had been distraught to begin with about Margaret's marriage, let it get in the way of his work. He grew irritable in the O.R. and in Post-Op (even reducing Radar to tears and blaming him for a patient dying on him!), often yelling at everything and everybody. He even ran out at night, when he didn't have a shift, bringing in more and more Korean families (and their cattle) and accusing them of being spies. Colonel Potter took it in stride for a little while, and even suggested that Frank needed some sleep (he wasn't coming home to the Swamp, like he was supposed to, and we grew a bit worried) and let Hawkeye and B.J. take a shift or two of his so that he could sleep. It was to no avail, Lorraine. Frank refused everything and more until Colonel Potter offered a week's vacation to Tokyo._

_Major Burns took it immediately. He went to Tokyo in an instant, leaving us behind with more and more wounded coming in and no hopes of coming back. Our Post-Op was crowded once more, with no more beds to spare and space to put any down and tents being used up quickly. So, Colonel Potter got on the horn and called about for Frank (who was _also_ running late and went A.W.O.L. for some stupid reason), searching for him because we needed the help. We needed the fourth surgeon badly (nurses were plenty and working as doctors, me mostly) and needed Frank to come back from Tokyo. Hell, even Margaret came back from her honeymoon early, stating that she knew about the mess and came back…although we all knew better._

_However, the next events that happened came about differently. This, Lorraine, is the next twist in the story, the next chapter in the story of the 4077th M*A*S*H._

_It was told to us that Frank had finally cracked. He followed blondes around everywhere in Tokyo, thinking that they were Margaret. He licked the buttons of one poor woman on the bus as the M.P.'s came up from behind him, Colonel Potter's orders to bring him back on their minds. Another time, Frank followed Mrs. and General Kester and went into a bath with them, thinking that they were Margaret and Donald. Needless to say, Frank was finally caught when he got into that bath and (this is the incredible part of the story) after getting out of his rubber room, he was promoted to Colonel and sent to a V.A. hospital in Indiana, where his wife and daughters are._

_Lorraine, the man assaulted many people, went crazy because he couldn't get access to Margaret. Then, when arrested, Frank was set free on order to be promoted and transferred stateside!_

_We still needed a surgeon, though, so Colonel Potter called Tokyo General as Hawkeye and B.J. were packing up Frank's things, sending them to the States for him, their last nice gesture to old Ferret Face. Receiving Colonel William Baldwin on the other line, our C.O. was promised one Major Charles Emerson Winchester…the Third, I must say, laughter very close to being lost on my tongue (and that certain Major across from me, about to go on yelling about my "immature" behavior again). He came here to the 4077th in the local ox cart and then set out to impress. Quickly proving to be an excellent surgeon all the way around, performing surgeries that the Swampmen (and even me) had not heard of or even performed, Major Winchester wowed an audience used to incompetence. Hell, he even impressed Colonel Potter, even though he always reminded the Major that this was not Tokyo General, but an Army hospital that required "meatball surgery" (Hawkeye's words). However, his work was remarked upon greatly and Colonel Potter smiled._

_All things came to a graceless end, Lorraine. While Major Winchester still proves himself in the O.R., he also quickly proved himself to be an arrogant, selfish, snobbish, uptight **ASSHOLE** who thinks that he can still hope to going back to Tokyo General. He's also still complaining about the conditions of the hospital, wistfully wishing that it was all better (and I have Hawkeye here, wondering why I put a word like that in bold letters and underlined it beautifully). However, Colonel Potter later said that he was supposed to now stay, his transfer permanently sealed, and that if he left, he would be in Leavenworth, digging gravel and picking at the red rocks with Major Simmons there._

_So, now we have an arrogant Major here instead of a crazy one. Isn't it lovely, Lorraine?_

_I mean, Charles' first face-to-face meeting with me was not very endearing, in the very least. I had just gotten off from a double shift in Post-Op and wanted sleep and he was sitting on the cot Frank had previously occupied, a red pillow decorating it, his personal effects creating a small bit of civilization in the tent (as if the Swamp is anything about civilization!). I came into my quarters and came out the man behind the mask, the person I saw in the O.R. from afar. As the other two Swampmen slept, I smiled at him, waved to him aimlessly and went to my cot, intent on that nap I wanted, seeing as how I had not slept in two days._

"_Ah, and what do we have here?" Major Winchester exclaimed me as my eyelids greeted the darkness that made them. When I opened them, there he was, standing above me with a greeting. "Do I see a woman in this tent, a tent full of men? Excuse, my dear, but I am Major Charles Emerson Winchester, the Third. And you are…?"_

"_Hawkeye's girl, if that was what you're asking," I replied, sitting up, irritated, making an obvious show of my ring, reminding him that I was taken and even engaged._

"_Enchanted," Charles sniffed (flattering me at the same time), taking my hand with the ring and kissing it before I knew it._

"_Oh, Chuckles, leave her alone," Hawkeye warned from his cot. I thought that he was sleeping, but I guess not._

"_Come on, Charles," moaned B.J., in his own way telling him to shut the hell up._

"_I only want to meet the last bunkmate, gentlemen," Charles only said, giving me back my hand as his kiss lingered on my fingers tips. "Do you have a name, Miss?"_

_I stood up, the smartass as ever before, and saluted. "Captain Jeanette Karen Morrison, _Sir_, a nurse at this hellhole called the 4077__th__ Mobile Army Surgical Hospital. Is that all you required?"_

_Charles just stood there, amazed and obviously shocked. "I think so, Morrison," he only replied._

"_You can call me Jeanie…Charles," I dared._

"_You presume too far." The Major still looked too shocked for words._

"_And so do you," I answered. "Now, if you excuse me, I need some sleep. I have not slept in a couple of days and my eyes are beginning to see blurry spots before me. I'm also sure that our bunkmates have not slept much, as well. Be quiet." I paused. "So, I give you many welcomes to the 4077th, Charles. May you last longer than your odious predecessor."_

"_I can drink to that," Hawkeye almost moaned._

"_Why don't we all shut up and let the war pass us by?" B.J. suggested as he rolled over in his cot, clearly angry about the noise level._

"_Why can't I practice my own ways here?" Charles complained as he walked away from me._

"_Why can't we all just get along?" Hawkeye asked._

_And so it went. The three of them argued and bickered (I knew them to be friends and enemies at the same time), but it made _me_ more annoyed than ever before. Unable to sleep as I rolled back over in my cot and tried to forget the voices in the tent, I sighed. I then buried my head under my own pillow, wishing that I had Hawkeye in my own arms, hoping to relieve him of the pain (and annoyance) of being Chief Surgeon over this oaf called Charles Winchester._

_That's pretty much for now, Lorraine. Dean should be here soon, so he'll be sure to send you something when he does have a moment to sit. He's been too busy with his new C.O., named Colonel Coner (he isn't in charge of his troops anymore, but now taking dead bodies from the enemies' side when ordered to), and trying to keep alive. I know that he's had near misses, but I am still worried for him. Only a handful of days and the 43rd can come back to the 4077th and stand guard instead of poor Klinger!_

_Love to you, the children and even to my ailing mother –_

_Your daughter in Korea, Jeanie_


	32. A Whiskey Lullaby

**Many thanks (and apologies!) to Bill Anderson and Jon Randall, who wrote the lyrics below (sung by Brad Paisley and Alison Krauss). Ok, I saw the video today and it actually made me cry, so I spun the story for the next chapter for Captain Spaulding, since he's musician of the bunch. Please review!**

* * *

_July 21, 1952_

_The 4077th, Korea to a Wandering Soul Out There_

_Dear Calvin,_

_You told me to write to you, care of the States. You mentioned something about being the new wandering soul of the United States, so will post this letter to your mother's since you have no permanent address really and go in and out of there. And, lucky you, your old address – the 21st Evac Hospital, Korea – is a thing of the past. Captain Calvin Spaulding has received enough points to get out of the Army and civilian Calvin Spaulding, the wandering soul with a guitar, is out in the open. Congratulations, Calvin! You're out of the Army!_

_I heard about your wife, before you left Korea, and I'm so sorry to hear about that. I know that you didn't join in on the fun here in camp, but remained faithful to her. You drank, worked and waited to see her again…only to see her like that. Oh, wandering soul…be careful of yourself and that bottle. I can't believe that this is coming from me, but even I see the dangers at looking through the bottom of a bottle. It looks clean and shiny and you feel better by emptying it, but it still leaves you the same: empty of everything, even feeling._

_I like that song you wrote before you left, but it leaves me worried about you…_

She put him out  
Like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette  
She broke his heart…  
He spent his whole life tryin' to forget  
We watched him drink his pain away  
A little at a time  
But he never could get drunk enough  
To get her off his mind  
Until the night…

He put that bottle to his head  
And pulled the trigger  
And finally drank away her memory  
Life is short, but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees  
We found him with his face down in the pillow  
With a note that said, "I'll love her 'til I die…"  
And when we buried him beneath the willow  
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

The rumors flew…  
But nobody know how much she blamed herself  
For years and years  
She tried to hide the whiskey on her breath  
She finally drank her pain away  
A little at a time  
But she never could get drunk enough  
To get him off her mind  
Until the night…

She put that bottle to her head  
And pulled the trigger  
And finally drank away his memory  
Life is short, but this time it was bigger  
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees  
We found her with her face down in the pillow  
Clinging to his picture for dear life  
We laid her next to him beneath the willow  
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby

_I love you as a brother, Calvin. So, take care of yourself please! I don't want to hear about this wandering soul being dead, following through with his song. I've lost enough people in this war already. Do I need to lose you, too? Don't go too soon!_

_You asked about how things were here. Well, things are the usual here at the 4077th. The wounded come in, we operate and shifts change from one day to the next. You know the drill. However, with a new surgeon here – Major Charles Emerson Winchester III – things have been pretty interesting. Already, the man has proven himself to be a brilliant surgeon (better than Frank Burns, for sure), but also a total snob: sophisticated, selfish and even arrogant. His ego is as big as the camp, if it can hold it. And nobody likes it when it suddenly becomes overcrowded._

_I'm sorry about this being a quick letter, Calvin, but I must go for my Post-Op shift with Major Ego (my new nickname for Major Winchester). I wanted to say hello and see how you were doing. So, please write to me, courtesy of the war in Korea, thanks to President Truman and company. I miss you and wish to see you, so let's hope the war is over soon!_

_With lots of love, Jeanie Morrison_


	33. Oh, Bitter Death

_July 29, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Trapper,_

_It's been insane here, as always (and I still say that being in charge of nurses isn't all that is cracked up to be). I know that you've heard about the departure of Frank Burns from the 4077th (you and Hawkeye talked…sort of…so, this is a good thing, seeing as how he shared the news with you), Margaret's marriage to Colonel Donald Penobscott (she said that the casts were not necessary and laughed about it) and the arrival of Major Charles Winchester. I've heard about my daughter being almost a year old (cutting teeth since she was four months old, walking since last month, talking incessantly now and all the silly pranks), your wife contemplating divorce again and Captain Calvin Spaulding committing suicide only weeks after he found out about his wife cheating on him while he was on Korea._

_All of the news has hit me hard, harder than I expect, especially about your possible divorce and even Calvin. Oh, God, Trapper, it's been a tough road since I came here, but it's like drinking: it's another one under the belt. You can keep having more and more and nothing will be solved. The path is still in front of you. There are obstacles there still. But, it never ends. It never ends. You can't quit, either._

_Calvin sang his last "Whiskey Lullaby", Trapper. He traveled about before getting off the bus, to greet his wife and start the family that he always wanted. He heard giggling, ran towards it and encountered her up in their bedroom with another man. He left her, occasionally visiting his mother for food and mail. Otherwise, his mother (who wrote to me after I sent my last letter to him a few days ago) noticed nothing out of the ordinary other than he was sad, quiet and drinking a lot more than he did in Korea. He sang at the bars, mostly singing a song that he wrote in Tokyo. He sent that song to me, Trapper, "A Whiskey Lullaby", and followed through it. He wrote that last note, pulled the trigger in some backroom of a bar with his face in a pillow on a couch. He was even buried beneath a willow tree in his parents' backyard, where he and his wife were also married._

_Hawkeye, Radar, Dean and I are devastated. We last saw him, all together (save for Radar, who saw him at the 21st Evac two months ago when delivering supplies), perform in a bar in Tokyo the last time we went there. He was fine then. He was happy, drinking with us and even setting music to the words I wrote. He was happy, dammit! He was careless, almost ready to go home. Now, days after he left Korea, he's dead: a bullet to his own head, by his own hands._

_People, as words and deeds, betray. We should know this by now, but we continue to walk away from it, hoping that we wouldn't find it again. But, of course, there is it again: stinging you, making you stand back for a moment, and then numbing the pain before you move on._

_Oh, Trapper, why? Why did it have to happen? Calvin loved his wife and would not stop talking about her and the family he wanted to start when he got home to her. He didn't deserve this. _Hedidn't deserve this!

_Jesus, Trapper…death always follows us everywhere. It's here, it's there and it's everywhere, in every place that we cannot comprehend. Our best doctors, with the new ninety-eight percentage survival rate (which cannot be copied out of all of the M*A*S*H units, Evac hospitals, etc., in all of Korea), cannot understand this plain of existence in which takes the best sometimes. We watch every person die before our eyes. We watch as each new commander, itching for a promotion, use their men to their advantage and kill more and more. A classic example is Colonel Coner, who took over Dean's unit. I could write on and on about the man (who had garbage poured on him the last time he was at our unit), but I cannot dwell on him too much. I have to write it out, though…even if it'll be the last thing I can do before running into a mine field without thought._

_Colonel Coner, as I've probably told you many times before, has been known to use his men in one of the most abusive ways possible: ordering them into the fields with enemy fire around them, picking up the dead and wounded bodies of their comrades-in-arms. Granted, you can do it if you have the chance to, when everything is clear (if it can be) and safe to cross, but when there is enemy fire within range and you're up on a hill you've always wanted, losing the battle, you have to retreat, _not_ tell your men to pick up bodies, living or dead._

_I thank everybody up there, whoever they are, that my brother is still alive. He's been regulated to being second-in-command and fighting when ordered to, not being out with his men. Otherwise, the 43__rd__ is usually with the 4077__th__, taking on guard duty when they could, as always. Colonel Coner does not like this arrangement one bit (Dean has written to say how much the man loves to be in the middle of the action, to beat the Chinese and North Koreans in the head) and has complained about it to Headquarters in Seoul, to no avail. His orders, after trying to take over Hill 122 (which is over the North Korean line, where we're pushing now), was to head to the 4077__th__ and guard it, since a new regiment had been ordered in. However, with Coner trying to get to 122, we get the wounded: an obvious consequence of the battle. Many men from the 43__rd__ were wounded. Usually, there are over thirty-two thousand men, total (coming in and out, of course), in an infantry regiment. Out of the fifty or so serving _now_, about twenty-nine of them have ended up wounded and most of them are now recovering at the 4077__th__ right this moment._

_Trapper, I didn't even say how many are _dead_ out of the twenty-nine. It is five men. Five men, out of fifty, are now dead, thanks in part to Colonel Coner. I can blame President Truman all I wanted. The people underneath him – the people appointed to head regiments – are to truly blame. If there were more people like my brother, then fewer men would be wounded. Fewer men would be dead._

_That asshole would not get away with it. He's tried, but, so far, he's been faced with some angry doctors here, most of all by the new one, Charles Winchester. And yes, you've read this right: _Major Charles Emerson Winchester the Third_ is the biggest pain in his ass Coner has right now. And this all began during another session in the O.R., one of those sessions that goes on and on, in what seems like forever, and things get in the way of everything. It makes me want to ask the Army for more money for dealing with blood, rain, explosives outside, dying men in Pre-Op and dwindling supplies._

_I was assigned to work with Charles for the time being, so I worked with him, took breaks with him and even talked with him. I mean, the man is insufferable as a bunkmate (as with everything else), but when taken out alone and not thinking about Tokyo General, home in Boston or even how uncultured we all are (I mean, we don't all listen to classical music all the time), Charles can be compassionate, kind and a fair man. And, for the first time, it showed during that session. He wasn't complaining to Colonel Potter about the conditions of the camp or how stupid we all are, but of the men that came in through the O.R. because of Colonel Coner._

"_Winchester, you know that I can't do anything yet unless I get on the horn to H.Q. Seoul and talk to them about it. Sponge, Nurse!"_

"_Sir, might I add that this is a repeating offense, worthy of a dismissal." Charles asked for a new set of gloves, but Klinger had just announced, as the request came in, that there were no more gloves._

"_Dammit, what's a hospital without gloves?" B.J. asked._

"_Radar, how much alcohol do we have?" Colonel Potter called._

"_We seem overstocked, Sir, and the Quartermaster is sending us more." Radar came in with his clipboard, reading off some things off the list of supplies the camp had, some of us swearing._

"_Good, we need it," I muttered under my breath._

"_Let's hope the still doesn't go next," Hawkeye commented._

"_I don't think it'll be necessary, Pierce, considering what's in it," Colonel Potter commented._

"_I think, Pierce, that a patient's system would be fuller of alcohol than blood," Charles replied afterward as he asked me for 3-0 silk. "Although, I want to ask why anybody would drink whatever is in that swill."_

"_Sir, I have heard my gin being called everything, but _never_ swill," Hawkeye announced from his table, sounding jokingly insulted._

"_I think your girl has been called better," B.J. called out to Hawkeye, making me blush and laugh while Hawkeye, I swear still, grinned behind his mask._

_Margaret was still back from her honeymoon (she and Donald never went for round two) and not in the best of moods upon hearing all of this. Coming up to me at the end of the O.R. where Charles and I were playing God, she asked, "Captain, was it like this when I was gone? I hope not. I hope the nurses were in better order than our doctors."_

"_You can rest assure that everything was in order,_ Major_," I muttered under my breath, using suction for Charles so that he could see better._

"_Major, you don't have to get your panties in a bunch," Colonel Potter said to Margaret as he asked his nurse to close and for another patient to be rolled in. "Captain Morrison ran your command as thoroughly as you or I would have had. Everything was in perfect order."_

"_If perfect order meant a Supply Room," Hawkeye commented._

_And this was coming from the camp's former skirt chaser!_

"_Guys and gals, get back to work and play nice now." Colonel Potter walked over to a corner of the O.R. and rinsed his hands in alcohol as Nurse Kellye poured carefully, making sure that she wasn't wasting any of it._

"_Meet me in the schoolyard after hours, then."_

_I looked up at Hawkeye, who said those words from the next table over, and saw his wink at me. I smiled back at him, missing entirely what Charles wanted me to give him in order to finish his surgery._

"_Nurse, clamp!" Charles looked impatient as he yelled at me. "I need it now, not later! You and Pierce can do whatever it is that you do after hours."_

_Charles' last sentence seemed indifferent, as if he was waving it away, ignoring the face-sucking, tiptoeing relationship that was ours. He learned quickly that what Hawkeye and I had was special, discrete in a way. He knew when to keep his hands off and when to comment._

"_Sorry, Major…clamp," I replied carefully, handing him the instrument._

_An hour later, Charles finished his surgery, which gave us a break from the action. As ordered by Colonel Potter, if there was wounded, we were to go back in, but if not, we were free. We exited the O.R. together, the both of us knowing that there might be more wounded in the next room for us, in Pre-Op, where our worst nightmares were sure to come soon enough. And I was sure that, with the 43rd around, we were going to get more of those._

_We sat down together, both of us turning to the right, where the door was slightly ajar and the rain leaked through on the floor a little, puddles making me feel like a child and want to jump in them again. A cool breeze – so uncharacteristic of Korean summers – came through the rain and puddles, making goosebumps where there used to be sweat and reddened skin._

_While Charles closed his eyes to feel the beauty of it all, I drank it all in, closing my eyes and thinking about the past: carefree summers with Lorraine and Henry in their backyard with Molly and Janie, running free in the park (which was down the road) with Dean and even walking into town, a hot road underneath our parched bare feet, sitting down in the old ice cream place, and sharing an ice cream sundae with my brother. It made me remember the good things in my life before everything hit the fan and my life turned into something worse than what it already was._

"_What are you thinking of, _ma chère_?" Charles asked without opening his eyes, still inclining his head towards the door._

"_How enchanting, Charles," I replied sarcastically, referring to his French and how he called me "Dear" again. "If you must know, I was thinking about the good things of home, if there was ever so few."_

"_Ha, ha, Captain," was what I got back from him, about to say another sarcastic reply, as mine was when the tongue became ready. Then, without one, Charles after a pause: "I'm curious, Captain. You have yet to tell anybody about your unique life and yet, there you are, displaying your usual sense of…sarcastic humor, if there ever was one. Your petulant attitude is very well-known here, as well, and –"_

"_Get to the point," I snapped, proving Charles' point._

_"Your sensual, dignified and attractive behavior towards Pierce seems to be hiding a lot of things," Charles insisted. "A rational woman, such as you, does not act the way you do without an abnormal past behind her. Pray, tell me what the matter is."_

"_As if you would –" I started before an explosion interrupted me._

_Dean ran right into the room where we were, coming in with two helmet and losing his balance as another explosion went off, landing on top of me as Charles and I hit the floor and covered our heads, water seeping through our white gowns. Colonel Coner was right behind him, a helmet also covering his head. However, he had perfect balance and only held onto the open doorway as rain poured into the room at full-force, a stronger wind rattling the windows._

"_Keep this up and I'll need new kidneys," I joked as Dean tried getting off of my back, but failed miserably, spilling water and hitting me over and over again in the back with his dead weight as he attempted to get up._

"_If this keeps up, I'll be asking the Army for another raise," Dean replied, smiling as he got back up again after a few minutes. "Here, little sister, I brought your helmet, as well as Major Winchester's. Enemy squadrons are out on the Front and the planes are coming through." He put mine and Charles' on, although the latter was put on askew._

"_Major, we have a job to do," Colonel Coner said, out of the blue, trying to keep on his feet as a few more explosions went off, shaking the building._

"_Sir, I _am_, doing my job," Dean protested, an attitude to boot._

"_Yes, and I order you to get your ass there and make sure that you're fighting the enemy!"_

"_Colonel, might I say that this is an M*A*S*H unit and not the Front Lines?" Charles asked, making sure that Dean didn't sass his C.O., knowing that we're siblings and we both do the same thing._

"_Major, there's an enemy out there –" Colonel Coner began._

"_Yes, and we don't need any more wounded soldiers here because of your sheer stupidity or your inability to have sympathy towards your men and consider their needs." Charles stood up, another explosion heard in the distance, shaking his steady footing. "Major Morrison here was just saying that he was doing his job. Now, why don't you do yours and make sure your men are not wounded?"_

"_Too late, Sirs!" Klinger called as he and Radar tried getting around Colonel Coner, bringing in another wounded soldier._

"_Are there any other serious cases out there?" I asked, going to the man's side as he was laid down right there in the room, getting up from the flood on the floor._

"_No, Captain," Klinger said, wiping water from the man's forehead. "There are only two in there and Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt claimed them. They're not serious."_

"_Are there any more coming in?" Charles asked as he assessed the wounds: chest and stomach wounds. It was serious and required hours of surgery._

"_No, Sir, but if this keeps up, we're going to have more wounded and they'll keep coming and we'll be overcrowded again," Radar said, dashing off into the O.R. as he knew Colonel Potter was going to call him._

"_It's one of my men," Colonel Coner said, leaning in closer to see the man. "You'll come out of this ok, Beckett. You'll recover."_

"_Get out of here!" Dean yelled suddenly when he heard the name. He pushed the Colonel aside and saw his right-hand man, the one man that stood by him and was wounded once, to go back to the Front Lines again. "Beckett, man, you'll get out of this! You'll be ok. You'll be ok."_

_My brother continued to pet Beckett's forehead, wiping away blood, sweat and toil away from the man, saying reassurances to his ear over and over again. However, the man never opened his eyes, never responded to the initial treatment Charles and I started while my brother stood there, worrying. Then, after a minute, the doctor and I stopped, pushing Dean back a little._

"_Dean," I sighed, as if the weight of the world was on me. "Dean, older brother…"_

_Then, I hugged him closely, before Dean got to Coner, before he dared to kill his C.O. for the death of yet another man from the 43rd._

_My brother knew what it meant. He knew what I was doing and that we tried our best. So, he only responded the best way he could, the _only_ way he realized was the best way out: to cry. He cried his heart out, leaning on my wet, white garment and crying on my shoulder for the man he loved, the man he considered to be his best friend. And there his C.O. stood, just staring and whistling an aimless tune, trying to wish he was anywhere but where he was at the moment._

_It made me _want_ to kill the bastard, made me cry with my brother for the losses we've sustained so far. It was not fair, Trapper!_

_Charles went back to business as usual, trying to keep his own emotions in check, watching us twins fall apart with grief. "Are there any other…men out there, Colonel?" he finally asked Coner._

"_The rest of them that are not wounded," the Colonel replied._

"_Then, why don't you go out to them, to make sure they're following orders?" Charles requested, trying to push Coner out of the small, enclosing room. It worked, getting Coner to mutter his apologies and farewells._

_To Klinger, who stood there sadly and without a thought to himself, Charles added, "Klinger, after you get another person and take this body out, go to the O.R. and inform Colonel Potter that there is no more wounded after Pierce and Hunnicutt's patients and that Major and Captain Morrison and I will be within earshot if anything else happens. We will be in the Mess Tent if he needs us."_

_Charles, as we stopped our weeping and Klinger and Father Mulcahy (after Last Rites) took the body away, cooed at us (which was weird for him) and told us twins to go to the Mess Tent for some coffee and sandwiches. Dean and I only obeyed, as only mechanical beings could, and sat in that cold tent, waiting for Charles, two cups of coffee and two turkey sandwiches untouched and growing colder as the rain came down, down, down…_

_The rain continues to fall now, Trapper, so I'll be putting this unusually long letter in a package, if I can find one. If not, expect this letter to be wet and almost understandable, from the rains of Korea, the tears of the Morrison twins and the stains from Rosie's._

_With all of my love, Jeanie_


	34. War News and Chatter

_July 30, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dear Mom,_

_I have just received your letter today. It was wet and I almost could not read it because of how the rain ruined it, but I could figure out the words just fine. I knew about Aunt Mary wanting to become a nun already, since she already wrote to me about what she wanted to do before she went to seclusion. I'm amazed, actually. I don't know if it is grief or anything that made her want to be a nun, but I think it might be good for her. She needs solitude, especially after Uncle Nathan's untimely death, and she loves children. Being a nun and then teaching children later might help her, in time, and help her to heal from the wounds marriage gave her. Don't you think so, too?_

_Dean is sitting here, right next to me, and sends his greetings to you. He promises to write to you soon, hoping that he doesn't need to stand guard within the next hour or so. He is not the commanding officer of his men anymore, Mom, but second-in-command. The new C.O. is named Colonel Coner. Because he's now in charge of the 43rd, more men have been dying and being sent here, to the 4077th. The Colonel has been telling his men to pick up dead bodies while there is fire and will send more of them where the Army says not to._

_I'm worried because it means more lives are lost. But, it is for a just cause – to fight back the godless heathen Communists – so I will be careful of what I say and do and will continue my work, as usual. My opinion matches each of theirs, as always._

_You also wanted some war news, Mom, so I'll give you some. Dean approves this (he's better than I am), so I will not have people looking at my letters, sending them back and asking me to censure them more carefully. It seems like the last war again!_

_Well, last week, on the twenty-third of this month, the Air Force and Navy planes launched extensive and massive air strikes against North Korea's hydroelectric power grids, causing an _almost_ complete blackout for the enemy. They are losing their power to move machines, as well, so our forces are striking as we sit here, waiting for the next moves of the war. Of course, the peace talks have been called off because everybody is trying to get land, so we're hoping this will end soon enough and we'll all be home, safe in our beds, before long._

_Also, Hill 266 is being battled upon. Now being called the "Battle for Old Baldy" (don't ask me why they call it that, I'm not naming the battles), infantry forces are now fighting for more land. Dean's unit is still stationed here, for the time being, but he will be called back in another month to fight the Communists, God willing. Or, he will stay here and guard the unit. It depends on a lot of things, like if anybody needs reinforcements or we're running low on men._

_We, on the rear end of the war, never seem to run out of wounded soldiers. They keep coming and coming and we continue to work on them carefully and either send them back or send them home._

_This war is a stalemate, Mom. The people back where you are thinking that we're winning. We could be. I don't know. But, the last I heard, we were in a stalemate and that nobody was winning or losing anything. I think the only thing we're really losing the most is blood and human lives. The only thing we're really winning is the technology race and how fast we can use them on other people._

_Oh, don't mind me, Mom, I'm just rambling on things I've heard and think. Ridiculous, isn't it?_

_The only death we mourn right now is Corporal Beckett, who was Dean's best friend and right-hand man here in Korea. He died this week before he could go into the O.R, brought in from the rain when we were being shelled from the enemy coming overhead and on the ground._

_Yes, we had Chinese soldiers coming towards camp. Some of them escaped from the Front and were heading our way as planes overhead bombed everything in sight. Beckett saw them and fired, as ordered. The Chinese fired back and threw a grenade. The Corporal was wounded in the chest and stomach and died within minutes as Major Winchester (the new doctor) and I worked on him before heading him into the O.R._

_Please pray for him and his family, Mom. He needs the prayers that I cannot give him, a poor sinner. Dean is devastated, as am I. We cannot pray because we are grieving so hard. The man was amazing and I wish you could have met him. He was God-fearing and loved his country well. He fought on orders and followed through with what was needed to be done. Oh, he was a good man. He was a good man._

_Camp news is fewer. We work, we eat, we sleep and we walk and dream. I am not seeing anybody at the moment and keep to myself on occasion. I try talking with Father Mulcahy and seeing the orphans, who have moved closer to the 4077th for medical treatment mostly, since they need it. They also need love and attention, which we give them when we could, even to the new mothers. A woman had a child here last night, a little boy that was named after Corporal Klinger! Both are doing well as I sit here, wondering at how life can come after so much death._

_Well, I should be going now. Mom, I hope that you are doing well. Say hello to the people at the church for me. I hope to see you – and them – soon enough. This war can't be forever and I can't be here forever. I hope to see you soon, so alone in Bloomington without your family. Kiss Lorraine and the children for me and, if you could, send greetings to my daughter, your little granddaughter in Boston with John and Louise McIntyre and their children._

_May God bless you, Mom!_

_Love, your daughter, Jeanette_

_With extra love from Dean!_


	35. Sitting Ducks

_August 16, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Bloomington, Illinois_

_Dearest Lorraine,_

_Sandbags being hugged, walls protecting me from the chaos outside, I write to you, once more, under the cover of darkness – a small candle lighting the still faces of this O.R. – with news that we are being shelled again. Like I said already, I'm sitting behind a few layers of sandbags right now, slowly breathing, in and out…in and out…and wishing that this would stop. The 43rd is out there because the Chinese and North Koreans are. This village called Uijongbu is being seized and we can't move right now. We're sitting ducks once more and this camp might be in flames before we know it. I mean, the "M" in M*A*S*H stands for MOBILE, right? So, why can't we be MOBILE? Let me explain._

_Colonel Potter tried calling Headquarters in Seoul as soon as this started (after a session in the O.R.) and they thought he was the enemy again after deciphering an old code book wrongly (explaining to him that if he was one of them to move, but if he was one of them to stay). Then, before Hawkeye and B.J. could protest (and try to pry the phone from the Colonel's authoritative fingers), the phone went dead again. Klinger and Radar have been under that table, where the phone is, shaking and trying to put it back together by the Colonel's orders. However, they have had no success. Klinger's conning skills are not up to playing with phones. And Radar…well, the poor little guy is scared out of his wits and has not been able to move from his position much._

"_Klinger, move your skirt!" I heard Radar say as Hawkeye and I went in to check on the two a few hours after the shelling started. The both of us had been in Post-Op with Kellye, Margaret, B.J. and Charles, trying to calm patients down, but failing miserably. I was shaking so hard that I needed space and Hawkeye only followed, trying to joke around, but failing as the two of us hit a wall together as the building shook again, Radar's flying comment hitting our ears._

"_Another great invention being drowned in shelling," Hawkeye yelled sarcastically, referring to Klinger's skirts giving him an excuse not to share the desk. I laughed, agreeing with him, but stayed put against that wall, standing up finally with Hawkeye._

_Afterward, as Hawkeye and I stood steadily on our feet (as sober as we could be), we heard Colonel Potter asked Radar if there was any progress on the phone and if we're going to move before more men become wounded soldiers and we have another O.R. session. The answer was hideous and not at all welcome._

"_Sir, we've been ordered to stay here," Radar yelled back, poking his head out and spitting out some of the feathers that flew into his mouth (all from Klinger's skirt)._

"_Which dimwit ordered us to stay here?" Colonel Potter, helmet on tightly, yelled back, making Radar almost jump up a mile._

"_Sir, that Colonel from the 43rd came in here and said he was an officer, that Colonel Coner person, and orders that we stay here in the middle of the shelling and –"_

"_Sir, that's suicide!" I interrupted Radar, directing my anger towards Colonel Potter._

"_I don't what it is, just as long as it stops," Klinger added, poking his head, too. He competed with Radar for attention in the world outside of the dark depths of the desk and succeeded to a point, his wide, feathery pink skirts pushing Radar to one side again._

"_Damn-blasted idiot doesn't know what he's ordering!" Colonel Potter exclaimed as another explosion was heard and the two Corporals disappeared under the desk again. "Radar –"_

"_No, the phone is not fixed because the do-hicky isn't hooked up to the what's-it," Radar yelled back as Colonel Potter asked him if the phone was fixed and what was wrong with it._

"_Translation: we're screwed!" I yelled before Hawkeye could throw in his two cents, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration, my white "lab coat" jerking up with me._

"_Radar, is there any way we can reach Colonel Coner?" Colonel Potter asked._

"_No, Sir, he's off with his men," Klinger replied for Radar as the kid screamed when he heard another explosion nearby, shaking the building. "Major Morrison is by the Mess Tent. You can ask him about what's going on."_

"_I'll talk with him," I said on impulse, running out into the darkness, out the door, without a helmet. I heard voices behind me (Hawkeye's mostly), but I ignored them, only wanting to see my brother._

_The outside air felt like many were trying to battle to keep it theirs, so many human souls fighting for the villages near the Front. The fog, which rolled in earlier in the night, even blinded me for a few moments, but I soon found my own way to the Mess Tent, memorized by two years of living and working in this hell called Korea. Dean's figure was by the entrance (I saw it), his gun poised in a menacing and deathlike way, his helmet on backwards: a killer's look._

_My own brother looked ready to kill someone. And it was a frightening thought._

"_Jesus, little sister, don't you know when to keep safe?"_

_Dean's face transformed and his grip loosened as he spotted me. He then motioned for me to come closer, putting his own head gear on my stupid head, leaving him without protection. That alone made me want to give it back to him, but I knew that Dean would fight me on it._

"_Jeanie, it's dangerous out here. The Chinese have broken through the Lines and are burning villages," Dean added without sparing me anything. "The North Koreans are close behind them. A regiment has been spotted not even twenty minutes ago, scouting near Rosie's Bar, which is just _down the road_. Get inside. You can't do anything. You can only hope that you guys can buggy out of here quickly before we're all captured as prisoners of war and taken out of here."_

"_Then why are we ordered here?" I hissed back. "Dean, Colonel Potter wants to know. He's pissed, you know, and rightfully so. We have wounded here. It's humane to move them and keep them from the danger."_

_I remembered my time with Sidney Freedman and shuddered. Wounded soldiers - physical and mental wounds - need to stay away from the dangers which drove them into our arms._

"_I know, Jeanie, but those aren't the orders," Dean replied, thanking one of his men when they brought an extra helmet and a cup of coffee for him and me to share quietly. As I took the cup from him to sip, he put on the helmet and continued. "Colonel Coner is just an incredibly stupid and extremely incompetent bastard who doesn't know what it is to be human. He just charges into danger. We've lost five more men, you know, and six more were sent to us from the States. We can't retrieve their bodies. Colonel Coner is determined to, though. He thinks they deserve a good, American burial, which they do. But, not to the cost of more men."_

"_What do you want me to tell my C.O.?" I then asked, shivering in the summer air, wrapping my arms around my body after I handed the coffee back to Dean._

"_Keep his people inside and wait for my orders to move out and not Colonel Coner's," Dean said, without missing a beat, sounding confident of himself. "Colonel Coner has no idea what to do and is just yelling orders by using his old Army Manual. I don't know where he is now, but I hope and pray that he's safely sedated someplace or in a ditch dead, minding his own damned business."_

_I wasn't too happy to hear of my own brother's words, but it rang true. Coner was better in a ditch or someplace sedated, where he could cause no more trouble for the 43rd. He was better keeping his own ass out of the Army and making as little trouble as possible for M*A*S*H units as well. He had no idea._

"_So, get inside, Jeanie, and stay there. I'll come after you, I promise."_

_I looked into Dean's grey eyes and smiled. He then bent down to the ground, swiped his thumb across it and came back up, smearing two lines on me across the tops of my cheeks – one line each under my baggy eyes – as if I needed some camouflage from the coming enemy._

"_Older brother, I –" I started before another explosion went off, where the mine fields were. It had been quiet – hushed – before this came._

_Both of us hit the ground pretty fast. We didn't need to be told twice._

"_Jeanie, get inside…now!" Dean yelled as debris flew. "I'm right behind you. I'll cover your back!"_

_So, we ran for it. I think I had never run that fast before, Lorraine. Dean was faster (his training, of course) and kept tripping over my boots, but we made it back into Radar's space, coming in just in time to see Colonel Potter about to come out the door to get me inside (his own gun in his hands), despite the danger. He was angry enough with me running out, but he was worse about Coner and the men of the 43rd who obeyed his orders and were getting wounded and/or killed._

"_Report, Major!" Colonel Potter yelled at Dean (as Regular Army as you can get) as soon as we three were inside and safely in the Colonel's office, B.J. (out of Post-Op) and Hawkeye behind us. Radar and Klinger had opted to keep vigil under their desk._

_Dean saluted and stood where he was as we Captains sat down around Colonel Potter's desk. Colonel Potter had opted to put his gun away and awaited for the report. We all knew that it was against the rules to have a weapon in the building, but Colonel Potter carried it around this day to defend, intending to put it back in his tent later._

"_Enemy forces are outside our doors, Sir," Dean then reported, without missing a pause. "We have fire in the mountains to the east, set up by the Chinese, and the North Koreans are hot behind them. Both are coming to Uijongbu and are coming pretty damned fast. We haven't been able to stop them. Some regiments have been spotted within this area already, some down by Rosie's. We need to move south, where it's safer."_

"_Talk about a cookout," B.J. said almost sarcastically._

"_Where are the hot dogs and hamburgers?" Hawkeye asked._

"_Hey, I wanted some cheeseburgers," I interjected._

"_Boys and girl, we're in for a rough one, so simmer down." Colonel Potter turned back to Dean. "Is there anything else, Major?"_

"_Other than we need to mobilize this unit and get out of Uijongbu, I see nothing else." Dean was silent for a moment. "Sir, if I may offer my men for your disposal? Colonel Coner seems to be missing right now and I have a few men in the camp still. The others are out and about with the C.O., I'm guessing."_

"_I appreciate your offer, son, but you need to keep our butts from being fired upon." The Colonel looked kindly upon my brother. "We can head down to –"_

"_Colonel Potter, you know that that will not be necessary." Colonel Coner suddenly came into the office, covered in the muck of war, reeking of gunfire and carrying his illegal weapon in the office when Dean left his outside. "Your orders are to stay here, despite enemy fire. We have ten wounded soldiers out there that need attention."_

"_You sick, sorry son of a –" Hawkeye began as he stood up to punch Coner._

"_You'll be one sorry bastard when I get to you, Pierce, so shut the hell up," Coner growled quite audibly, putting up defensive blocks as he raised his voice and his weapon. "Garbage in my jeep from that chopper was the least of it, Captain. I guard this unit and give it protection when I'm told to. It doesn't mean I like it. My men deserve more."_

"_If it means getting us to pick up dead bodies, you're crazy and out of your mind…Sir," Dean muttered, turning around to face his commanding officer._

"_Major, don't get me started on your attitude. It's enough to get you sent to Leavenworth, if I can make the charges stick. So, shut up and obey orders."_

"_What charges?" I got up from my seat, B.J. and Hawkeye behind me in case I lunged forward to attack the Colonel in anger, although I can say that Hawkeye wanted to do the same, at that point._

"_Disorderly conduct in an officer of the United States Army, mutiny against the commanding officer – me – amongst others, Captain." Colonel Coner looked at me maliciously. "It seems to run in the family. You're all a bunch of disorderly drunks, your father included. No wonder he keeps running in and out of this country. The man cries when he's told to suck off the bottle."_

"_Colonel, that'll be _enough!_" I yelled, angry that he _dared_ to call my family thus._

"_There is no evidence of what you're accusing the Major of," Colonel Potter interrupted before my temper got to me and the other two Captains and even Dean. "This isn't the point, though. We have wounded. Let's get going."_

"_Colonel, I'm not finished," Coner protested as Hawkeye, B.J. and I tried to get around him to go find the wounded soldiers._

"_Radar, use that P.A. to get the troops going," Colonel Potter said as he walked behind us, Dean underfoot as he moved to help. To Coner: "Colonel, I don't give a horse's behind whether or not you're finished or not. If we're stayed here, we're staying here. We have wounded out there. Now, where are they?"_

"_By your Mess Tent, where –"_

"_Attention, camp, we have wounded in the compound!" Radar yelled as everybody stomped to the Mess Tent, where ten wounded soldiers of the 43rd awaited for us, one of them dead already because Coner had bothered not to tell us until that moment._

_And, all through this, we still had the camp being shelled, enemy soldiers nearby (yards away, quite literally), a fire coming from the east and Dean's faithful men in the camp helping us get their comrades-in-arms into Pre-Op. We were trapped._

_And here is where I am, Lorraine: in the O.R. still. We've got sand bags here and it's safer than being outside (the enemy soldiers have been rounded up and the fire is in control, more regiments coming to our aide). Dean is here with me, knowing that Coner had him cornered, and sighs. Hawkeye's head is laying in my lap as I write, sleeping, lightly snoring and tossing and turning when something explodes. B.J. and Charles are in Post-Op with Margaret and her army of nurses. Klinger stands guard at the door. Father Mulcahy is doing Last Rites for the three we lost. And Radar and Colonel Potter are on the horn, trying to find out what's truly going on here._

_Sending this letter with my blood, sweat, tears…and, of course, all of my love –_

_Your daughter, Jeanie_


	36. The Most Tempting Offer: Quiet

_August 20, 1952  
The 4077th, Korea to Boston, Massachusetts_

_Dearest Trapper,_

_Now that the attacks here have ceased and we're back to normal, things have been quieter, even here in the Swamp. We've had days and days of endless fighting near and in the camp (even the Chinese and North Koreans were here a few times!), rain and wind, more and more wounded soldiers and even supplies that always ran out (the gloves have finally come in today). Finally, after days and days of locals fighting, battles coming closer and closer, the peace talks starting and stopping again and again and victories being recorded (Hill 122 has been taken by the Marines, by the way), we have some quiet here at the 4077th. Save for the visit from Colonel Flagg, we've been a happier unit altogether._

_Colonel Coner has been recalled to Seoul to answer for his actions, we didn't have to bug out of here a few days ago and we didn't lose a person in the unit, save for a few men from the 43rd. Dean is in charge of his men and they're still here, safe and sound. Rosie's is back up, as well, and you know where they are!_

_I did say that Colonel Flagg was here, right? Well, he came here, especially for me. His face had been redone perfectly well because of his meeting with the pavement a few months previously (reconstruction surgery, although fairly new, does wonders sometimes). His legs were not quite healed, so he limped a lot (he did not have crutches). But, he came into camp, walking here and there and all the while, his main hiding spot had been in a trash can._

_Other interesting things went on while our lovely Colonel was here, too, and it didn't even have to involve me (but, more on that in a later letter!). After Flagg was tricked by Charles into thinking that there was a secret meeting in the Swamp (where the Chief of Police and Mayor of Uijongbu were playing poker with Colonel Potter and company), he also met up with me before he left the camp. And what an interesting offer he had to give to me and I knew about it before he could tell me!_

_I passed him while he was sitting in Radar's space. I had walked into Post-Op, asking B.J. about some of Dean's men and how they were doing before going to lunch, so exited using that office space. However, seeing Flagg there – fiddling with the P.A. system and the newly-fixed phone, all in thanks to Sergeant Rizzo and Klinger (a whiz at electric things when he put his fingers on it) – startled me. I nearly jumped up a mile when I saw him there, trying and expecting to find strange wires and microphones._

"_I guess being a C.I.A. agent has its quirks," I said out loud, trying to get his attention. "You always think that somebody is watching and listening to you."_

"_No, no, Iréne, but that is something the F.B.I. does, not us. J. Edgar Hoover has made enemies that way." Flagg turned to face me. "They need support. The C.I.A. does not."_

"_Yes, yes, and you're not doing me a favor me being here. Now, what do you want?" I tapped my foot in impatience and crossed my arms diagonally my chest._

"_I have an offer for you, Iréne."_

"_That much is certain, Colonel. Now, are you going to offer me a position in the United States or what? I've been in this hellhole for two years now. When can I go home, if not at the end of the war? Or, do you have as much power as you think you do?"_

_Flagg, for the first time ever, looked surprised and was even shocked that I knew the nature of his visit to me (other than thinking Hawkeye was playing footsie with the enemy and fooling around with Charles). Apparently, he doesn't know that I have spies of my own in Seoul, Tokyo and elsewhere and that they used to work for me in West Germany, transferred here on Flagg's sudden whim…to wipe them out before anything else happens to his career. Most of them are already dead, much to my regret. However, the remaining company – four out of the fifteen people I've worked with – is small, but alive and safe._

_I continued, regardless. "Flagg, I know that you've been trying to keep me in the Army for the rest of my life and keep me under your thumb. It's beyond your jurisdiction now, according to the _new _head of the C.I.A., General Walter Bedell Smith. You can offer me all you want, even give my daughter back to me before the war's end so that I can feel more complete, but you can't make me do what you want anymore. I know your game, as does General Smith. He has graciously written to me and has upheld your last decision to keep me here in Korea until the war ends, but he also has granted me permanent leave of the United States Army when it does. He gave me the playing card I needed to get out of the Army. I'm also free to come and go as I please, Colonel. I'm a free woman now. I am not a security risk to the United States anymore. I've been cleared of everything, even of your imaginary charges. I can even go to Tokyo without an escort."_

"_General Smith has –" Flagg started._

"_No, Colonel, the General himself will not speak with you." I almost laughed to see Flagg's face turn red with anger, which was strange for him (keeping a poker face usually). "He is currently not seeing any visitors or having any meetings, but is busy campaigning – supporting quietly, as it were – for the Republican candidate for President, the former General Dwight D. Eisenhower. _I_ can't even bother him."_

"_You can't get away with this," the Colonel finally said after recovering from his shock, a stoic face back on: the mask of a spy._

"_Yes, I can, Flagg. I took charge of my own life after my daughter was born. I got tired of her being bounced from one home to the next, so I wanted to ensure that I took charge of her when I come out…as a free woman. Sadly, though, she's still in your hands, and you know I'm working to change it permanently, so that she's in safer hands when I go home."_

_Flagg grinned. "It's my last gift to you, Iréne. I have yet to show you what's in my sleeve."_

"_I think I can figure it soon enough." I uncrossed my arms, suddenly worried and knowing that it wasn't going to show._

"_Not this time," Flagg replied viciously. "You won't figure this one out until it's too late, Iréne. And when you do, you will find out how much it will cost you."_

"_You don't scare me, Flagg. You never have."_

_Inwardly, though, I was shaking to the core, worried about my daughter still and wondering what Flagg wanted to do with her. If he wanted to kill her, he couldn't have the chance. He'll be a dead man if he tried, though. Not to mention, the charges he'll have alone…_

"_Someday, I will." Flagg stood up to face me._

"_I doubt it, so we'll see." I shook my head. "Now, Colonel, if you would excuse me, I have some business to attend to. It is called lunch, you see, and I would like to have something that would make my stomach churn with twisted pain and agony. It's worse than your torture methods, you know."_

_So, Trapper, I turned around on my heels, leaving (hopefully) Flagg for the last time. I had an appointment in the Swamp with Hawkeye and I was running late. But, I did think about the offer that Flagg wanted to give to me that I knew about without him saying anything: work with him for the rest of my life (a spy's life is usually short), be watched all the time, play the spy for Senator McCarthy in the United States and to be with my daughter._

_You know what? It stinks of lies. And I cannot live with myself for it. I'd rather be in this hellhole and wait out the end of the war for my freedom than have to have it given to me on a silver platter dripping of innocent blood. It's tempting, Trapper, but you know that I can't do it. It'll be a larger hell than Korea, war-torn Korea that seems to be never-ending in its struggles._

_Well, B.J. if out fishing with the new chopper pilot, Scott Baker. Charles is in Post-Op for his shift until evening until Hawkeye and I are scheduled to be on. And there is the Swamp – full of fleas, rats, dirty clothes and magazines – with Hawkeye in it, privacy for us at last. He's been waiting patiently for me to finish writing (he's been sleeping until a moment ago), so I must go. A beautiful day is ahead of us, full of peace and quiet with little worries._

_I've gone from mourning Henry throughout this year and going to the Funny Farm to be Regular Army again. I've played doctor many times over (with more to come) and dealt with pain, death and disgrace. I've been made the happiest woman life, being engaged to the most wonderful man out there, and cried when another married an idiot after a short engagement. I've pined for my daughter and worried about her constantly, wondering when the next day will be my last. And I've even finally found some love and respect for my own mother, writing to her more and more about the war and my life and not the Christian words she loved so much. Now, all I want is some peace and quiet, after an eventful year so far._

That_, Trapper, is the most tempting offer of all. Peace and quiet…_

_Give my love to everybody, especially my daughter. Keep her safe!_

_With lots of love and good cheer, Jeanie_


End file.
